What A Turkey
by resourceful
Summary: After the euphoria of their secret engagement, Lee and Amanda encounter some stumbling blocks on their path toward marriage. Holiday traditions and different dating backgrounds challenge their individual expectations.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: What A Turkey**

**Author: Resourceful**

**Rating: T**

**Disclaimer: **Scarecrow and Mrs. King is the property of Warner Brothers and Shoot-the-Moon Productions. I make no money from the story and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Credits: **References are made to the following episodes: If Thoughts Could Kill, A Long Christmas Eve, Weekend, A Relative Situation, A Lovely Little Affair, Unfinished Business, Billy's Lost Weekend, Night Crawler, Any Number Can Play

**Timeframe: Fourth season: ** Thanksgiving 1986

**Summary: **After the euphoria of their secret engagement, Lee and Amanda encounter some stumbling blocks on their path toward marriage. Holiday traditions and different dating backgrounds challenge their individual expectations.

The story is slightly alternative universe. It also assumes "Any Number Can Play" was aired before "Santa's Got a Brand New Bag."

**Authors Notes: **Many thanks to my creative east coast beta who provided support and ideas for a 2007 SMK holiday challenge. And thanks to the talented "Lookoutwife" for encouraging me to repost the story and providing her beta expertise.

Since I keep tweaking the story, all mistakes all mine. There are seven chapters - all will be posted by the end of the week.

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><p><strong>Chapter One: <strong>

**Washington D.C. - A week before Thanksgiving**

A blast of frigid air blew against Lee and Amanda as they walked out the front door of International Federal Film. In a matter of hours, the cool autumn day gave way to plunging temperatures - a blatant reminder of the changing seasons. It wouldn't be too long before silent and sullen winter gripped the nation's capitol.

Fighting off the chill, Lee turned up the collar of his leather jacket and helped Amanda to secure the top button of her blue wool parka. "It's very cold," he said, placing his hand at the small of her back. "Maybe another cup of steaming coffee in the Q-Bureau could satisfy our need for a mid-morning break."

"No, Lee. A brisk walk will afford us the privacy to talk, away from the office." Amanda paused and took an invigorating breath of fresh air. "I think the gorgeous fall day is well worth the bitter cold that's nipping at our fingers and toes." She reached into his pockets and pulled out his large leather gloves. "Here, why don't you put these on for warmth."

"Amanda, really, I'm fine," he said, cringing at her actions. He didn't need her mothering him, especially with Agency personnel coming and going from the stately brick building that camouflaged their secret intelligence community. If he let down his guard, she'd be tying her scarf around his exposed neck, and the rumor mill would gear up for more gossip about Scarecrow and Mrs. King.

Picking up their pace, they headed out on their favorite route through Georgetown. "You're right," he said, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm. "The day's too perfect to remain cooped up inside."

All around them, the bright sun sparkled from an azure sky, and a few hardy marigolds and mums stood sentry in their window boxes. Huddling close, Lee and Amanda walked under the canopy of towering oak and maple trees as the swirling wind blew against their backs. Yellow, gold and red leaves rained down from nearly naked branches, leaving a luxurious carpet to adorn the city sidewalks. Even the noise of morning traffic failed to compete with the loud crunch of leaves, rustling beneath their feet.

"So," he said, breaking their momentary code of silence. "Something is on your mind."

"You know me too well," she answered with a sweet smile.

"Not as well, as I'd like to know you." He grinned when her cheeks, already red from the cold, turned a darker crimson.

Ignoring his obvious meaning, she tried again. "Lee, what are you going to do about Thanksgiving this year?"

He knew what was coming. She'd broached the same question every year since he'd said good-bye to her at the Jefferson Memorial in 1983. Back then, he simply ignored the invitation, but avoidance was no longer an option. Now they were engaged, and he knew exactly what she expected of him. "Oh, are you asking if I have a place to go for Thanksgiving?"

"Not any place. I mean my place." Sighing with impatience, she paused to take a breath, obviously preparing for a long Amanda King ramble. She'd probably rehearsed a speech for days.

"Lee, I want you to join my family for Thanksgiving dinner. Mother wants you to come, too. In fact, she talks of nothing else. She knows you care deeply about me. She could see it in your eyes when you went to see her during my kidnapping."

"Amanda, I was barely at your house for five minutes," he said defensively. "I only introduced myself as your co-worker and asked if she'd heard from you."

She touched her hand to his cheek, in a calming gesture. "I know, sweetheart, but Mother was very perceptive. She guessed there was more going on between the two of us than making documentaries. Besides, you charmed her recently with a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Now she wants to return the favor by inviting you to dinner.

"I know, I know," he said with a sigh.

Amanda pinned him with her intense brown eyes. "Lee, the boys are getting curious about you, too. I think Thanksgiving would be the perfect opportunity for my children to get to know you."

"Your ex-husband will be there, right? I imagine introducing your boyfriend into the mix will complicate the hell out of the holiday."

"Yes, Joe will be there, and, although that might be a little uncomfortable for both of you, he realizes we're involved through work. And then there is Aunt Lillian . . . ."

"Amanda, stop." Lee ran cold fingers through his windblown hair, recognizing a showdown brewing between them. "I just can't."

"Yes, you can." Her chin quivered with barely concealed anger.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find the words to circumvent the conflict. "I think it's too soon. My appearance at a King family event will make it awkward for everyone."

Amanda stopped walking and pulled him down on the nearest bench. "Lee, this isn't open for negotiation," she whispered. "You're my fiancée, even though, at the moment, only the two of us are in on the secret. We've made a commitment to each other, and it's inconceivable to me that you can't join my family for dinner. How do you expect to get to know Mother and the boys, if you don't spend time with them?"

Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he could feel the old emotional boundaries returning. "Fine, let's take the boys to a Redskins' game and Dotty to lunch. Hell, we can even invite Joe to come along, but please don't feed me to the lions all at once."

Amanda's thin frame seemed to sag under the weight of his words. "Lee," she said in a small, hurt voice. "My home is not the Roman coliseum, and my family is not a pride of lions."

He tried hard to look contrite. "Well, I suppose the analogy is a little strong, but you certainly get my drift." Easing his arm around her, he pulled her body next to his. "I need a little time to go from world class loner to instant family man. Can you appreciate how difficult this is for me?"

Amanda sat in silence for a long moment, before nodding her head with understanding.

"Lee," she said, looking into his eyes. "I know it's hard for you, and, yes, I can give you the space you need to make the adjustment. All I want is for you to give my invitation serious consideration."

He sighed audibly, contemplating her request. "Okay," he finally agreed. "I'll do some more thinking about Thanksgiving."

She graced him with a brilliant smile. "That's all I ask, sweetheart."

"Good, then we'll table the discussion for now." As they continued their jaunt in prolonged silence, Lee finally cleared his throat. "Ah, Amanda, I was just wondering. . . ."

"Wondering about what, sweetheart?" Her face was full of love and trust as she looked at him.

He hesitated. Should he bring up another touchy subject? Placing his hand firmly on the small of her back, he decided to take the risk. "Well, we missed out on Crump's Cabin for a getaway." He flashed his signature grin, hoping to disarm her with his charm. "Maybe we can plan some time away during the extended holiday weekend - just the two of us."

Her mouth gapped open, and she blinked in surprise. "Lee, I can't walk out on my family for my own private Thanksgiving observance. Do you expect me to leave my mother with a houseful of people, so the two of us can run off together?"

"Of course not," he replied tersely, dropping his hand from its familiar resting place. "I know you can't abandon your family. I'm not asking for the entire four-day weekend. Maybe we could leave on Friday or Saturday – you, know, make up a project for IFF. How about telling them we're going to Williamsburg for a shoot? Your mother knows you get called out-of-town on assignments."

"Lee, Saturday is Jamie's special's day. As part of his birthday gift this year, my son asked to invite some friends to the National Air and Space Museum. Joe's taking a car load of kids and so am I."

"Oh, I see." Lee nodded with resignation. "Well, of course, Jamie's trip is a priority."

"I'm sorry about the hectic family schedule," she said, placing her gloved hand on the sleeve of his jacket. "The timing isn't right for the two of us to go away. We can be patient for a little longer, can't we?"

"Maybe you find it easy to wait," he grumbled under his breath.

"What?" She raised an eyebrow in question.

He couldn't hide his disappointment. "When do you think the timing will be right?" he asked with a tinge of frustration. "Amanda, I don't want to pressure you . . . ."

"Then don't," she said abruptly, tears teetering on the precipice of her eyelids. "When the time is right, we'll both know it. Do you understand?"

"I got it, Amanda. Your message was loud and clear."

Lee couldn't even look at her. Hell, what did she expect from him. He was a healthy male, after all. He'd been toeing the line for a long time, living up to her code of dating ethics. He'd envisioned that once they were engaged, there would be more to look forward to than cold showers. After all, she was a vibrant, desirable, affectionate, and giving woman. She relished their closeness as much as he did.

For an awkward moment, the silence between them was palpable. Finally, she spoke. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry. I know you have needs that I'm not meeting. Believe it or not, I have the very same needs. However, I seem to be a member of a dying breed of women. I find it hard to trade my old fashion values for complete physical intimacy before marriage. Lee, I need the reassurance that you accept me just the way I am, regardless of whether or not we wait."

His frustration instantly evaporated. Pulling her close, he touched his forehead to hers. "I do accept you just the way you are. In fact, I'm proud of you."

"You are?"

"You bet. I need a gal with principles, because she makes me a better man."

Amanda breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, I really needed the affirmation. Lee, I promise, we'll move forward very soon."

"Good," he said, smiling into her hair. "You let me know the date and location, and I'll be there - ready, willing and able."

They walked arm in arm again, settling into an amicable truce.

"So," Amanda said, running her hand down his arm. "Tell me about the first Thanksgiving you remember."

"Is this my punishment?" he asked with a groan. "You want me to talk about the pathetic holidays of little Lee Stetson?"

Amanda's elbow playfully jabbed his ribcage. "I'm just curious. I really want to know some of your family stories."

Her warm smile wore down his resistance. "Well, I have to go back pretty far, since I've been exiled from family holidays for over three decades."

"Try, Lee. You must have some memories of Thanksgiving with your Mom and Dad."

"It's hard, Amanda. I was only four and half years old." Sketchy scenes swarmed in his head, but his mind failed to bring the pictures into focus.

"Come on, sweetheart," she encouraged with a squeeze of his hand. "There must be something homey you remember."

"Humph." He studied the passing clouds as if they possessed the forgotten scenes from his early childhood. Slowly images began to form in his mind's eye. "Well, my mother might have worn her frilly white apron over her favorite black dress with its white lace collar and cuffs. I liked to poke my fingers through the holes in the lacey fabric when she held me on her lap. And, oh yes, she probably wore a pair of black, open-toed shoes."

"Are you serious? Your mother wore open-toed shoes, too?"

He reached to tweak her nose. "Yes, just like the other important woman in my life."

She smiled shyly. "What about your father? Do you remember what he might have worn?"

"Let's see. Dad probably had his pipe in the pocket of his beige, corduroy, sports coat. I still recall the way the fabric pressed into my cheek, when he carried me to bed." Lee chuckled, shaking his head with amusement. "Come to think of it, I was probably wearing my Roy Rogers' cowboy hat, western shirt, and cowboy boots."

"Lee, I can't imagine your proper British Mum letting you come to the dinner table dressed in full cowboy regalia."

"You got that right. I didn't get away with anything, unless I had to be placated to keep the peace. Maybe with a table full of guests, she decided to pick her battles carefully."

"She was a very smart woman." Amanda's brown eyes lit up with laughter. "What else do you recall, Lee?"

"Not much. There was a turkey and one of those horn centerpieces."

"A cornucopia," she supplied.

"Yeah, that's right. I also remember the silver gravy boat, because I managed to knock it over with the turkey drumstick I was eating." He offered a wide grin. "What can I say? I was an accident waiting to happen."

Amanda's nodded knowingly. "I think in today's world your type would be labeled hyperactive or incorrigible, depending on the attitude of the teacher."

He laughed and shrugged. "That's about it, Amanda. The names and faces of other relatives and friends present at Thanksgiving are long forgotten."

She scanned their surroundings for any unwanted eyes or ears and then leaned in to kiss his cheek. "You did great, sweetheart. I'm really proud of you for giving me a little glimpse of the child who grew up to become the love of my life. Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said in a gravelly voice, as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "The love we share is the best thing that ever happened to me." He took her arm as they crossed the street and headed back toward the Agency. After a moment he offered a cryptic smile. "I just remembered one of my most notorious episodes from nursery school."

"I can't wait to hear this one."

"Well, I'm not sure if it's my memory or just the description Mom wrote in her diary. Anyway, it was the 1954 Thanksgiving pageant. My teacher picked me to be a pilgrim. She asked my mother to dress me in black pants and jacket, buckled shoes and long white socks. Then to add insult to injury, I had to wear a wide white collar and a tall black hat made of cardboard."

"Oh, my gosh, Lee, your teacher really didn't know much about rambunctious little boys, did she?"

"Nope. I wanted to be an Indian like my friend Charlie, but none of my whining and complaining could earn me the coveted feather and burlap costume."

Amanda studied her feet, shaking her head back and forth. "Oh, no, I can guess what's coming."

Lee laughed and squeezed her side. "Are you sure you want to hear the rest of the story? It's pretty gruesome."

She let out a heavy sigh. "I'm bracing for the inevitable. Go on."

"Well, I must have begged and pleaded right up to curtain time. You'd think with all the parents and teachers present, someone might have recognized the accelerating unhappiness of a four year old. I mean, no one should have mistaken my unruly behavior for cooperation."

"No, of course not," Amanda said. "Absolutely no one would use the name Lee Stetson and the word cooperation in the same sentence. Couldn't they recognize a looming disaster?"

"I guess not. All I needed was one insult from the wise-guy, Freddy Pugh, to send me over the edge. In one of my proudest moments, I balled my fingers into a fist and threw a perfect punch right in the kid's generous gut. He fell backward into the scenery, taking several other kids with him."

"Oh, Lee, you call a stomach punch your proudest moment?"

"Well, only until my mother got a hold on me. Chaos must have ensued, because I still remember the firm grip of Mom's hand as she unceremoniously marched me to the family car."

"And what did your father say?"

"Well, maybe I have it all wrong, but somehow I recall a twinkle in my father's eye and a half smile on his lips. Possibly Dad understood my predicament after all."

"Oh, Lee, you must have been a handful."

He grinned at her and winked. "I still am."

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><p><strong>To be continued:<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: **

**Monday Evening before Thanksgiving**

The silver Corvette cruised through the Arlington neighborhood, slowly coming to a stop, one block from the white Cape Cod on Maplewood Drive. "Well, I guess this is as close as I dare go tonight," Lee said, shooting a hesitant glance at his partner. "Your mother is probably peering out the window, wondering why you're late again."

Amanda shook her head at his excessive caution. Would he ever stop evading her family? "Lee, you don't have to hide. Mother would love for you to stop in for a short visit."

He looked at his watch. "Amanda, it's late. Maybe, I'll stop in tomorrow, okay?"

Swallowing the words that would test his resolve, she silently studied the twinkling streetlights that illumined the path to her house. Sighing, she gave in. "Suit yourself, sweetheart. I don't have the strength to force the issue, tonight." Reaching for the door handle, she prepared to exit the car.

Lee's hand reached across the console to stop her. "Wait, please. Let's sit a minute," he said, pulling her into the comfort of his arms.

His rough cheek, prickly from his five o'clock shadow, brushed against her face. How could she resist now? The need to return home was fast becoming insignificant when compared to the allure of his masculinity. "Lee, I really have to go," she objected, but the plea lacked conviction.

Ignoring the feeble protest, he touched his lips to hers, tentative at first, but then more demanding. Lee's powerful hands slid under Amanda's coat, holding her firmly against his chest.

Relaxing into the embrace, she responded to Lee's advances. Eagerly her fingers roamed over broad shoulders and into smooth strands of hair. Intoxicated by the taste of his mouth, she felt the heat between them rise. A small voice in her brain told her to stop. Not here, not now, it warned, but their desire was too intense to ignore.

A far away knocking competed for her attention, and reluctantly she pulled back, struggling to gain control.

"A-man-da," Lee whispered breathlessly, his voice deep with passion. Once again his lips sought hers.

Then they both heard it. A persistent rapping on the passenger side window brought them up short.

"Hello, Amanda. I know you're in there."

Extracting herself from Lee's embrace, she straightened her clothes and began to wipe the moisture away from the window with her coat sleeve. Apparently, their heavy breathing had done a good job of fogging up the windows.

"What the hell is this?" Lee asked, running a hand through his hair in a useless attempt to look presentable.

Finally, Amanda lowered the window. "Aunt Lillian," she gasped, as a smiling face peered through the opening.

The spunky intruder didn't miss a beat. "I knew it must be you, dear," she said with a laugh. "And this must be your new gentleman friend?" Without invitation, she pulled open the car door, flooding the inside with light and exposing Lee's startled face. "Hello, I'm Amanda's Aunt Lillian - Dotty's sister. You must be Mr. Stetson."

Dumbstruck, Lee managed to offer his hand, which Aunt Lillian shook with gusto. "Ah, Lillian," he repeated as if testing his voice. "You're Amanda's aunt, of course." Slowly the Scarecrow persona awakened to the occasion, and the ladies' man grin snapped into place. "Your niece has told me wonderful things about you."

"This one's a keeper, dear," she said with unabashed delight.

Amanda finally recovered enough to join the conversation. "Aunt Lillian what are you doing out so late?"

"I'm just taking a walk. Your mother told me to keep a sharp eye out for a sleek silver sports car. It's a good thing I spotted you. Did you know your windows are all steamed up? That's a dead giveaway for PDA."

A whimper slipped, unbidden, from Amanda's throat. "PDA?"

"Don't play coy with me. I'm talking about public display of affection." Aunt Lillian shook a finger at them - a clear reprimand if there ever was one. "You two bring back fond memories of your Uncle Stanley and me in his 1953 Chevy Coupe. As college students, we parked right outside the girls' dormitory at the University of Virginia. Couples never could find any privacy back in those days. There's something to be said for today's co-ed dorms. However, in your case, I think you really need to get a room."

Amanda was desperate to stop the runaway monologue. "Aunt Lillian, we just needed some privacy to talk."

"Sure you did, dear." The old girl winked at Lee. "Now don't you think it's time to take your sideshow inside?" Aunt Lillian pointed toward the King house. "I'll just hurry on ahead and let Dotty know you're coming."

"Oh great," Lee said, following up with a colorful expletive under his breath.

Amanda repeatedly bumped her head against his shoulder, wishing instead for a padded room and a little scream therapy. "Lee, do you know what she's going to tell my mother?"

"Forget it, Amanda. We're adults, not kids."

"That's just it, Lee. Mother will think we should know better than to neck in the car, especially in my nosey neighborhood. And, that's just for starters. She'll be deeply hurt when she learns about her daughter's burgeoning romance from her younger sister."

"I know, I know," Lee said, shaking his head in exasperation. "And that will pale alongside the engagement we failed to announce." Checking the rearview mirror, he combed his hair and wiped the lipstick from his face. "Come on," he said, opening his door. "I'll walk you to the house and then head on home."

"Oh, no you don't, buster." She grabbed his necktie and gave a tug. "You're not going to abandon me on the doorstep. Can you imagine the questions and innuendos, I'm going to hear?"

"Amanda, no. I'm not going in there."

"Yes, you are, Lee. You got me into to this mess, and you'll have to face the consequences."

"Fine," he said with a low growl. Then unfolding his tall frame from the car, he hurried around to open her door. "I hope you realize what you're doing. Believe me, the coming interrogation will not ease me into family life."

"Lee, they're going to love you, when they get to know you." Amanda scrambled out the passenger side door and handed him the keys that he'd left in the ignition. Then giving his arm a yank, she set his feet in motion. "Okay, Mr. Charm, get ready to fascinate the home front."

"This is ridiculous," he said, balking with every step. "Even I can't wow this audience."

As they walked through the white picket gate, it gave a loud squeak, announcing their arrival. The front door opened wide, and there stood an over-eager Dotty. "Lee, it's nice to see you again."

"Mrs. West," he said politely, not quite up to speed with his usual flawless social skills. Distracted by the exchange of pleasantries, he stumbled slightly at the entryway.

"Be careful," Dotty warned, as she stepped back to give him room. "I'm so sorry. I should have turned on the outside light."

"Oh, Lee," Amanda moaned against his back. "I forgot to warn you about the pumpkins."

"Pumpkins," he muttered, glaring at the festive display. "I should have guessed I'd be ambushed at the front door. Next time, we'll go in the back way."

Crossing the threshold into the warmth of the house, Amanda whispered a plea to her mother. "Go easy on him, please."

"Of course, darling."

Taking Lee's arm, Amanda pointed out other holiday booby-traps. "Watch out," she cautioned as they dodged more pumpkins, a large ceramic turkey and a life-size, tethered scarecrow.

"Nice touch," he whispered, pointing to the man of straw.

Amanda laughed. "It will have to do, until I can have the real one."

Aunt Lillian sat waiting on the sofa. Patting the seat cushion next to her, she beckoned to Lee. "Why don't you sit here, Mr. Stetson, so we can get better acquainted?"

His eyes widened with alarm, but Amanda offered an encouraging smile. "Go on," she said, brushing her hand over his sleeve. "I'll sit across from you." Taking one of the armchairs, she spotted her mother hurrying from the kitchen, armed with a pitcher of sparkling cider and a tray of pumpkin treats. Without a doubt, Lee was about to be grilled by two very capable interrogators.

"Isn't this nice," Dotty said brightly as she set the refreshments on the coffee table. Then motioning for Lee to move closer to Aunt Lillian, she joined them on the sofa. "It's wonderful to see you again, Mr. Steadman."

"Mother, the name is Stetson - Lee Stetson." She took a deep breath, preparing for the worst. This was no slip of the tongue. Her mother knew exactly what she was doing.

Dotty's hands flew to her face. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I meant Stetson, of course."

"That's okay," Lee said. "The names do sound alike." He must have seen what was coming, because he inched forward on his seat, like he was ready to bolt for the door.

Dotty leaned in a little closer, placing a hand on his arm. "Although," she added, "it's the strangest thing."

"What's strange?" he asked, taking the bait.

"Well, I'm sure it's a coincidence, but my daughter seems to have several bosses with the first name of Lee. Let's see," she continued, counting on her fingers. "There's Lee Steadman, Lee Simpson, and, of course, you – Lee Stetson."

"Ah, well, our company is a big organization," he offered lamely. "Lee must be a popular name." He shot Amanda a desperate look, beseeching her to take the ball and run with it.

She neatly took the handoff. "Remember, Mother, we live in the state of Virginia. Many parents named their sons after General Robert E. Lee."

Peering over the top of her reading glasses, Aunt Lillian studied Lee carefully. "The names sound like aliases to me. Or are they pen names? Dotty told me you work for a film company."

"Yes, ma'am, that's correct," he said cautiously. "International Federal Film makes government documentaries."

"Under assumed names, it would appear." Aunt Lillian's blue eyes bore into Lee, as she gave him a look that could break the most notorious outlaw.

Amanda rushed to his aid. "Aunt Lillian, IFF works for the government and, as we all know, the government has secrets."

Her aunt looked positively intrigued. "Oh, how interesting. What kind of secrets?"

"Forget it Lillian," Dotty said dryly. "You'll never pry anything from them. As my daughter keeps reminding me, a secret is a secret."

"Well, if you ladies will excuse me." Lee started to rise, but Dotty neatly sabotaged his effort to leave.

Thrusting a plate into his hand, her smile totally disarmed him. "Would you like pumpkin bread or pumpkin cookies, Lee? Or would you like some of each?"

"Ah, both, please," he said diplomatically. Gingerly accepting the goodies, he studied the offerings like they might detonate at any moment. Finally blowing out a breath, he settled back on the sofa.

"So," Dotty said, in a not so innocent tone, "what brings you over to Arlington this evening?"

Amanda tried to intercede. "Mother, my car is in the shop."

Dotty gave her a knowing look. "What is it this time, dear? Did you drive your car into another ditch or just crack the windshield again?"

"Ah, the car is getting a tune-up," Amanda said, nervously swinging her leg back and forth. She glanced at Lee, who was busy guzzling down his cider, like a man about to flee. "Mr. Stetson was kind enough to give me a ride home."

Aunt Lillian's elbow neatly jabbed Lee in the side. "That's not all Mr. Stetson was kind enough to give you."

Immediately, Lee choked on the last gulp of his drink, and Amanda cheeks burned with embarrassment. "Aunt Lillian, please," she whispered, out of the side of her mouth.

Dotty was trying her best to keep up with the conversation. "What did you give my daughter, Mr. Stetson?" she asked as she poured more cider into his glass.

He practically withered under her probing gaze. "Well, I'm not sure . . . ."

"Mother, watch out," Amanda cautioned, as Dotty accidentally veered the pitcher away from Lee's glass.

The warning was too late. The cider missed the glass and flowed down Lee's crisp white shirt and blue paisley tie, finally pooling in the lap of his black wool slacks.

Dotty looked stricken. "Oh, I'm so sorry."

"No harm done," he said valiantly, between clinched teeth.

Amanda was instantly by his side, grabbing the napkins from the tray and blotting his shirt.

He pushed her hand away. "Amanda, stop, he said, with irritation in his voice. "I'll take care of it."

"Of course." She took a step backward, providing him a little space and dignity.

"Ah, really, I'm fine," he said, softening his tone. "Look, I'll just head home."

Dotty placed a hand on his arm. "Why don't you step into the bathroom, and we'll get you something else to wear."

Lillian pointed toward the powder room. "It's this way, dear."

Rising gingerly, Lee's eyes sought Amanda as they headed down the hall. "Listen, the spill isn't a big deal. I don't want a lot of fuss."

"Just humor them, Lee. They want to help you." Making sure everyone was gone she gave him a quick kiss, before he disappeared behind the closed door.

Dotty rushed from the kitchen with a pair of faded navy Dockers and a flannel shirt. "I have some old work clothes. Joe wore them when he painted the boys' bedroom."

Taking the garments, Amanda held up the pants and checked the shirt. She realized they'd be too short. "Oh, dear, these will never do. Lee will look like Harrison Ford in the movie, 'Witness'. Just give him a straw hat and he'll fit right in as an Amish farmer."

"Darling, at least the outfit is clean and dry. The only alternative would be your bathrobe, but then he'd look like Cary Grant in the screwball comedy, 'Bringing Up Baby'."

Amanda braced for Lee's reaction. "Sweetheart, open the door."

"Sweetheart?" Dotty's eyebrows disappeared beneath her bangs. "When did your boss become your sweetheart?"

Aunt Lillian peered around the corner, unable to contain her glee. "You'd know if you took a walk with me tonight."

Before any more secrets could be exchanged, the bathroom door opened a crack and long fingers reached for the garments. "Amanda," he hissed, "must you share your gossip outside the door?" Then he quickly barricaded himself again in his private sanctuary.

"Okay, everyone, the show is over." Amanda did her best to direct the audience out of the hallway.

Several minutes passed, but Lee failed to appear. Rapping on the door, Amanda called to him. "Sweetheart, when are you coming out?"

"When hell freezes over," he called through the barrier.

"Mother and Aunt Lillian have gone upstairs. Just leave your dress clothes on the commode, and I'll take care of them. Come on out; the coast is clear."

"Okay, here I come." He gave the door a good yank and stood there like a gangly teenager.

Amanda tried to keep a straight face. "Oh my gosh!"

"Don't laugh," he said, in a tone laced with venom. "If you even crack a smile, it will be all over between us."

She couldn't help herself. He looked ridiculous. Joe's baggy pants barely reached the tops of Lee's black socks, and the sleeves of the ragged shirt provided two threadbare openings for his elbows. With three missing buttons in front, he had to hold the garment closed at the middle of his chest. In her mind, he looked like Li'l Abner or Mister Bojangles. Despite her best efforts, she succumbed to a fit of giggles.

"That's it, Amanda. I want the ring back."

"Oh, Lee, I'm sorry. You look so cute, I just can't help myself."

"I'll see you tomorrow," he growled as he headed for the front door. Stopping only long enough to snag his leather jacket, he reached for the knob, just as the door flew open.

"We're home," Joe called. Phillip and Jamie filed in behind him. "It was a great movie . . . ." His voice trailed off to silence.

Everyone froze as they gawked at each other. Joe recovered first. "Hello," he said with a half grin. "It's good to see you." His eyes traveled from Lee's face right on down to the bottoms of his trousers and then back up again.

Lee hardly moved a muscle. "Ah, yeah, Joe, it's good to see you, too." His mouth was in gear, but nothing else seemed to work.

Leave it to Phillip to point and stare. "Ah, nice duds." The boy clamped a hand over his mouth and snickered.

Amanda somehow managed to breathe again. "Jamie, I don't believe you've met my boss. This is Mr. Stetson."

The boy remained mute, taking a step backward and colliding with his father's chest. Pushing his glasses more snugly on his face, he kept his eyes trained on Lee's odd attire. Finally, he found his voice. "Dad, aren't those your clothes?"

"Jamie," Amanda admonished. "Where are your manners?"

Without looking up, the kid thrust his hand in the general direction of Lee. "Ah, nice to meet you," he mumbled in a youthful monotone.

Lee hesitantly took the proffered hand. "Yeah, I'm glad to meet you, too, Jamie."

"Well," Joe said, pointing to the stairs, "it's time to hit the showers, guys." Leaning toward Amanda, he whispered. "Is everything okay?"

"Not now, Joe. Later."

The boys made a wide circle around Lee and headed for the second floor. "Night, Mom. Night, Dad."

Amanda cocked her head toward Lee, sending her sons a silent message.

Phillip seemed to catch on first. "Goodnight, Mr. Stetson."

Lee was already making his way out the door. "Goodnight," he said to nobody in particular.

Amanda followed him out, securely closing the door behind them. "Lee, I'm sorry about their behavior."

"Sorry? Why would you be sorry? I thought the introductions went well, didn't you? Now your sons think I'm a geek, and Joe must think I'm some kind of lunatic."

Amanda patted his arm, trying to reassure him. "Sweetheart, please don't worry. I'll explain everything to the boys. Someday, we'll all look back on tonight and laugh."

He stood there in shock. "Well, I promise you, it won't be this Thanksgiving."

"Oh, Lee, don't be upset. Everyone wants you to come to dinner on Thursday."

"I just bet they can't wait. They must be wondering what kind of turkey you're dating now." Without so much as a peck on the cheek, he left Amanda quaking in his wake as he stormed off the steps and vanished into the night.

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued:<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: **

**Tuesday before Thanksgiving – The Agency**

Lee hurried through the double doors of the bullpen and made a beeline for the office of William Melrose. His section chief had left word with Mrs. Marsden that he should report in immediately upon arrival. Squaring his shoulders, he gave one hard knock, hoping for an assignment – any assignment.

"Come," Melrose called when Lee's knuckles had scarcely cleared the door.

With two long strides, he took his usual place in front of Billy's executive desk. "What's up?"

"Good morning, to you, too." Melrose set down his coffee cup, next to a half eaten donut. "I have a mission for you, Scarecrow."

"Count me in," Lee said, feeling an adrenaline rush course through his body. He was more than ready for the next pursuit.

Billy cut right to the chase. "According to the latest scuttlebutt, Ivan Titov is about to depart the United States for the Soviet Union, with a top mathematician from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Apparently Titov has been undercover as a language professor and romancing Professor Ann Marie Montgomery on the side. The latest report indicates the two got married and are hop-scotching along the east coast, looking for a way out of the country."

"So, where am I going?"

"Surveillance cameras spotted them at the JFK airport, but it looks like they abandoned their flight plan and headed toward upstate New York. We suspect they want to cross the border into Canada."

"Just give me a time and place, and I'll be there."

"Okay, Scarecrow, as soon as we can pin-point their location, we'll send you on the quest. You're going to need a partner on this one. Do you want to take Amanda?"

"Ah, no." Lee kept his eyes glued to the carpet, knowing his boss could read him like a book. "With it being Thanksgiving, and with all Amanda's family at her house, it's best to keep her off this case."

"That's very generous of you," Billy said, with a knowing smile. "Well, I'll see who else is available."

"Sure, maybe Frank Duffy can partner with me." Lee ran a nervous hand through his hair. Hell, if he could get out-of-town, he'd even be willing to work with Fred Fielder.

Melrose wrinkled his brow in concentration. "Frank may not be right for this one, Scarecrow. This case may require the feminine touch."

"Well, whoever." Lee inched toward the door, hoping to avoid his boss's scrutiny. "You can let me know."

"Sorry to send you away for the holidays," Melrose called as Lee exited the room.

Peering around the door, Lee tried his best to look glum. "I'll forgive you this time, Billy."

* * *

><p><strong>SMK, SMK, SMK<strong>

The staccato click of high heel shoes on polished hardwood floors announced the arrival of Amanda. The door to the Q-Bureau swung open with a bang, as she wordlessly entered the inner sanctum of Stetson and King. Without a glance in his direction, she quickly settled into her chair and dropped her purse into the desk drawer with a loud thud.

Lee didn't need a psychotherapist to gauge her level of anger. On a scale of one to ten, it appeared to rate a definite ten. "Good morning, Amanda," he said, grabbing a file to hold in front of his face.

"When did you plan to tell me?" she asked in a raspy voice, thick with hurt and anger. Avoiding eye contact, she pulled out her pen and markers and began to attack a pile of case folders.

"Tell you what?" It was a useless stall tactic. He knew perfectly well what was coming. In all likelihood, she'd gone to the bullpen upon arrival and noticed the duty roster for the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday.

Pausing with pen in mid-air, she pinned him with a piercing glare. "Lee, don't play childish games with me. You know exactly why I'm upset. Was signing your name at the top of the duty roster your way of telling me you won't be joining my family for Thanksgiving?"

"Amanda," he said, slowly rising from his chair. "Must I remind you, I made my sentiments perfectly clear when I became the Court Jester at the King family castle?" Walking toward her with measured strides, he propped his hands on her desk and dared to lean his face only inches from hers. "How could you think, even for a minute, that I would allow myself to be served up as the Thanksgiving dinner entertainment?"

The indomitable Mrs. King didn't miss a beat. She leaned closer, leaving only minuscule space between them. "Lee," she said, annunciating his name with deliberate sweetness. "Your complaints are petty."

"Petty? Petty, you say?" He pulled back like he'd been struck. "You let your family run roughshod over me. In fact, you joined in the merriment, while I felt reduced to a bumbling buffoon. And now you have the nerve to stand there and call me petty."

Letting out a deep breath, her anger seemed to dissipate. "Lee, listen to your self," she said, in a decidedly softer tone. "You're much too sensitive, sweetheart. Mother, Aunt Lillian, and the boys didn't mean to hurt your feelings. You have to lighten up. Please don't approach family life with a chip on your shoulder."

"That's easy for you to say." He repeatedly ran nervous fingers through his hair, still nursing the pain of his humiliation. "Amanda, you've been nurtured in a family circle your entire life. My parents died when I was five years old. I don't have a clue how to fit in."

"Lee, I'll help you every step of the way." Her fingers brushed his hand, but he abruptly pulled it out of reach.

He wasn't ready to heal the breach. The whole idea of a family celebration was an enigma to him. "Amanda, I may have been born and raised an American, but traditional holiday customs are completely foreign to me."

"I know this is hard for you, but you have to be willing to adapt if we're going to make it as a family. Please, Lee, take your name off the duty roster. In fact, I'll go down and speak to Mr. Melrose myself." Reaching for her purse, she started to move toward the door.

"Amanda, no, you can't change things now." He closed his eyes, realizing the folly of his decision. "It's too late."

Suddenly the door flew open, and in sauntered Francine Desmond. "What's too late?" Looking from one somber face to the other, she brought herself up to speed very quickly. "Is there trouble in paradise?"

Lee glared at the intruder. "Francine, did you need something?"

Shrugging her shoulders, she quickly returned to the business at hand. "Yes, Scarecrow, here is the itinerary for our new assignment."

"Our new assignment?" he asked, hoping he'd misunderstood.

Francine grinned and shook her head. "Yes, Stetson, you heard me correctly. We'll fly into Buffalo tonight. You'd better take your long johns. The weather forecast predicts heavy snow squalls."

"Ah, sure, take warm clothes. I've got it." Lee glanced hesitantly at Amanda who stood silently observing the scene.

Realization finally seemed to permeate her confusion. "You have an out-of-town assignment, and Francine's going with you?"

"That's right, Amanda," Francine replied, with a playful nudge to Lee's arm. "Mr. and Mrs. Lee Stinson will be honeymooning at Niagara Falls."

"What?" Amanda backed up until she reached her chair and then sank like a rock.

Lee blew out a long breath. Surely, he was doomed in Amanda's eyes. "Ah, yeah," he managed to croak, barely getting the words off his tongue. "It looks like Billy asked Francine to partner with me on this one."

Francine didn't try to hide her smirk. "Consider it a gift, Amanda. You won't have to worry about a pesky undercover assignment that would require you to share a hotel room with your partner. You can sleep easier tonight."

"Thank you, so much, Francine," Amanda replied with an acid tongue. "I'm sure Lee appreciates your sacrifice."

"A-man-da," Lee said, feebly composing his worthless excuse. "It's Thanksgiving. Billy doesn't want to spoil your holiday."

She glared back in defiance. "How could Mr. Melrose possibly spoil my holiday? You've already left it in tatters."

Francine's radar went on high alert. "Don't look so sad, Amanda. I promise to take good care of him. I'll make sure he eats three square meals a day and gets to bed at a decent hour." Turning to Lee, she ignored the tension in the room. "So, Stetson, what do you want to do on Thanksgiving?"

Lee opened his mouth but nothing suitable came to mind. Anything he might say would certainly dig the hole deeper that he'd already dug for himself.

"Francine," Amanda answered for him. "You won't need to plan on getting a turkey."

"Oh and why is that?"

"Because," Amanda called over her shoulder as she hurried toward the door. "You'll already have the turkey with you."

* * *

><p><strong>SMK, SMK, SMK<strong>

Lee slumped over his desk and cradled his head in his hands. Could things get any worse? Amanda had failed to return after her mad dash out the door, and Francine had finally left in a fit of laughter. As she so bluntly pointed out, Amanda needed to get over her school girl crush, and he needed to stop behaving like a hen-pecked husband.

Contemplating going AWOL from the office, he was about to grab his coat when the phone rang. "Stetson," he barked, attacking the receiver, like a snarling Rottweiler.

"Good Morning, Skip."

Hearing the voice of Colonel Robert Clayton, Lee's body involuntarily snapped to attention. "Sir," he said, fighting to control the old feelings of intimidation that were so ingrained from his childhood.

"I wanted to give you a call before Thanksgiving," the Colonel explained, in his crisp, abrupt tone. "I'll be on maneuvers over the holiday."

"Yes, sir, I expected as much." Lee managed to relax his rigid stance. "As I recall, you're always on duty this time of year."

"And, you? What are your plans?"

"I'll be on assignment, sir. I leave tonight."

"Still the same old Skip. You never will take a holiday, will you, boy?"

The insulting label made him cringe. Here he was a grown man, and his uncle still referred to him as a boy. "Well, I come by it honestly. I don't remember you celebrating holidays, either."

The Colonel cleared his throat. "Old habits die hard," he answered in a gruff voice.

"Yes, sir. You were always married to your career."

"Career military is no life for a family," Colonel Clayton said defensively. "At least, that's my opinion."

"How well I remember," Lee responded, trying to gain the upper hand. He was bound and determined to out maneuver his uncle with their traditional war of words. "You worked hard to make a man of me before my baby teeth fell out."

The Colonel muffled a cough. "Yes, well, count yourself lucky, Skip. You don't have to raise someone else's child. It takes grit and determination."

"So, I understand," Lee said, thinking of his shaky start with his future stepsons.

There was a long pause before the Colonel spoke again. "I hope you won't be eating Thanksgiving dinner alone in some bar."

"Ah, no, I'll be with a colleague. We'll probably go to a restaurant."

"I don't suppose you'll be on the case with the lovely Mrs. King?" The Colonel's voice sounded almost animated.

"Amanda?" Lee said with surprise. "No, sir. She'll be at home with her family. I'm amazed you remember her."

"Why not, Skip? She's quite a woman. Apparently Amanda never told you we talk from time to time."

"What?" Lee almost missed the chair when he suddenly sat down. "How long has this been going on?"

The Colonel was actually laughing now. "Oh, she has telephoned several times since we all had dinner together a couple of years ago. Amanda knew you rarely call me, so she wanted me to know that you're alive and well. She actually sent me cookies for Christmas last year and a card on my birthday."

"You're kidding?" Lee felt his jaw tighten. How could Amanda and the Colonel have kept a secret from him? "You should have told me long before now, sir."

"What," his uncle bellowed, "and let you shame her into stopping. Don't you go and spoil this, Skip."

"No, sir, I won't say a word." He was starting to come unglued by the strange twist of events. "Look, I have to run."

"Okay, Lee," the Colonel said, in a rare use of his given name. "I'll let you go. Take care of yourself."

"Yes, sir. You, too. Goodbye."

Rising from his chair, Lee slowly set the receiver back into place. Starting to pace, he tried to make sense out of the Colonel's bombshell. He just couldn't believe it. Amanda had befriended his uncle behind his back. He didn't know whether to be grateful to her or as mad as hell. What's more, she'd found a side of the old man that he'd never seen. A couple of phone calls and a box of cookies, and she'd tapped into the Colonel's soft side – one, until this moment, he didn't know existed. The very same man, whose childcare methods came from the books of military drill sergeants, actually had a warm spot for Amanda King.

Sitting down on the small leather sofa, Lee laid his head back against the smooth upholstery. He suddenly felt very old and tired. Harsh scenes from his childhood began to haunt him. Memories, he'd spent years repressing, now clamored for attention.

* * *

><p><strong>****** Flashback – Colorado Springs Air Force Base – Thanksgiving 1955 *****<strong>

Little Lee Stetson dutifully walked beside Captain Robert Clayton, in a futile effort to match his small footsteps to the precision stride of his uncle.

"Keep up, Skip," the Captain ordered, when Lee paused to tug on the collar of his crisp, white shirt. The fabric felt too tight, especially with the necktie knotted snugly against his throat.

Suddenly, the Captain's broad hand tugged on his arm, propelling him down the long corridor and through the double doors of the mess hall.

"No." Lee dug in the heels of his brown Oxfords and refused to budge from the doorway. In front of him sat 500 enlisted men and officers, all engaged in a mechanical ritual of passing platters and serving up helpings of meat, potatoes, and vegetables.

"No, what?" Captain Clayton demanded.

"No, sir." Lee refused to look at his uncle. As utensils banged against plates, and voices merged into a loud buzz, he covered his ears with his hands. The scene wasn't anything like the Thanksgiving he remembered.

Captain Clayton grabbed his hands, forcing them to his sides. "Now, buck up, Skip."

Lee stood at attention. "Yes, sir," he replied, blinking back threatening tears that would provoke another reprimand from his guardian.

Strong fingers, pressing on his skinny back, got him in motion. "Now let's find a seat. We're late enough as it is, young man. I don't want you to ever hide from me again."

Lee nodded miserably. He'd really gotten into trouble this time. Hiding under his bed had seemed like a good idea. If his uncle couldn't find him, then he wouldn't have to go to the dumb Thanksgiving dinner.

Biting his tongue, Lee fought back tears of disappointment. His teacher had made the holiday sound special, and the other kids had been real excited about their family plans. But not little Lee Stetson - he didn't have anything to look forward to, except dinner in the mess hall.

Looking up at his uncle, Lee dared a question. "Will they have turkey?"

"You, bet," the Captain answered, without a downward glance.

Arriving at the table, his uncle offered a half-smile to his fellow officers. "Kids," he added with a shake of his head. "You never know what they'll do next."

They all laughed as one officer slapped Captain Clayton on his back. "Better you, than me, Bob. I think you should write a how-to manual on diaper duty in the Air Force."

"You got that right," his uncle replied. "I never thought I'd become a permanent baby-sitter."

Lee's face turned red and he slid down in his seat until his eyes could barely see over the top of the table. He hated being treated like a baby. Swinging his legs back and forth, he bumped his shoes against the metal chair with annoying thumps.

"Sit up, Skip," the Captain barked as he loaded his nephew's plate with a generous helping of food. "You wanted turkey, so here's your turkey."

Lee eyed the stringy chunks of white poultry with extreme skepticism. "This isn't turkey," he wailed. "You promised me turkey." Crossing his arms in protest, he curled his lips into his best pout. He didn't care if he was sent to bed without dinner. No way was he going to eat what was on his plate.

"Of course, it's turkey," his uncle said, pointing at the plate. "Isn't it men?"

They all nodded their heads in agreement.

"No it's not." Lee would bet his Mickey Mantle baseball card that this wasn't turkey. "Where's the drumstick?" he demanded. "My mother always gave me the drumstick."

Raised eyebrows appeared on the faces of the other officers, and all eyes turned toward the Captain. No one wanted to miss whatever came next.

His uncle cleared his throat. "It most certainly is turkey, Skip." Stabbing a forkful of the white meat, Captain Clayton held it to the closed lips of his nephew. "Now, eat."

Lee didn't blink. Shaking his head with an emphatic no, he refused to open his mouth.

The war was on and Lee knew it. No way would Captain Robert Clayton of the United States Air Force back down now. When it came to career or children, the man was of one mind – no surrender, no retreat. Even so, the guy had met his match. Stubborn was Lee Stetson's middle name. At least that's what his uncle told his Air Force buddies.

Suddenly Captain Clayton reached over and pinched his small nostrils together. Valiantly, Lee held his breath, while everyone at the table waited with wide eyes. It didn't take long. With a loud gasp for air, Lee's mouth flew open and the dreaded meat was slipped inside.

"Now chew and swallow," the Captain ordered.

Lee felt like he was gnawing on leather. No matter how he worked the food in his mouth, it wouldn't go down. His uncle offered him a sip of milk, but he still couldn't bring himself to swallow the meat. Pushing with his tongue, he started to store the morsels in his cheeks like a chipmunk stockpiling food for the winter. Maybe, if he held on, he could spit the forced feeding into his napkin. Slowly reaching for the coveted cloth by his plate, Lee failed to anticipate his uncle's next maneuver.

Suddenly the Captain gave him a hardy slap on his back, causing the turkey to go down in one big gulp. "There now, wasn't that good?" His uncle smiled in triumph and resumed his conversation.

Lee grabbed his throat and then froze in place. The meat was stuck. He didn't want to make a fuss, but he couldn't talk and he couldn't breath.

Wide-eyed, he yanked on Captain Clayton's sleeve.

"Cut the dramatics, Skip."

"Hey, the kid is choking," someone yelled.

Gasping for air, Lee felt his whole body go limp. In one fluid motion, he slid from his chair to the concrete floor.

Instantly, uniformed men swarmed around him and someone grabbed him from behind, bending him forward and squeezing him around the middle. Once, twice and then a third time, he felt the thrusts jerk his body. Suddenly the food flew from his airway, straight to his uncle's painstakingly shined shoes.

Lee started to cry – not because he was hurt, but because he was scared. His uncle was standing there like a statue, a look of horror engraved on his startled features. There was no way to tell if Captain Clayton was worried or embarrassed. However, one thing was certain. The Captain was furious.

All around him voices expressed their concern and strong arms set him on his feet.

"Are you, okay, Lee?"

"That was a close call, Buddy."

"Let's get you cleaned up."

The only voice he didn't hear was that of Captain Robert Clayton. Lee's eyes searched the man's face for signs of reassurance that didn't come.

His uncle straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat. "Well, thank you for helping the boy," he said to no one in particular. Motioning toward the door, he sent a silent message to his nephew.

Lee nodded obediently and fell in place beside his uncle. Everything was over but the scolding, and he knew a lecture awaited him at home.

"Happy Thanksgiving, men," the Captain barked to his colleagues, waving off their invitations to stay.

Taking Lee by the arm, his Uncle marched him toward the double doors of the mess hall.

Looking over his shoulder at the Thanksgiving feast with all its trimmings, little Lee Stetson made himself a promise. Never, ever again would he eat turkey.

*********End of Flashback**********

* * *

><p>A knock on the Q-Bureau door jolted Lee out of his daydream. "It's open," he yelled as he jumped to his feet, trying to press the wrinkles from his clothes with a swipe of his hand.<p>

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything, Scarecrow." By the smile on Billy's face, it was obvious his boss already had him pegged.

"Ah, no, come on in."

Melrose closed the door carefully, hesitating slightly before he spoke. "Amanda came to see me a short time ago."

"She did?" Here it comes, he thought, as he braced for a lecture on the importance of holiday cheer. Keeping his face neutral, he pointed to the sofa. "Would you like to sit down?"

"Yes, thanks." Ignoring the couch, Billy pulled out Amanda's chair and seated himself behind her desk. "I don't suppose you know why Mrs. King asked permission to leave early today?" Looking at his watch, he noted the time. "Apparently she considered 9:00 to 9:25 a complete working day."

"Amanda left?" He stopped himself before he said anything damaging. Dropping his tall frame to the sofa, he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "Maybe she was sick or one of her kids got ill at school. Whatever the reason, she didn't tell me."

"Well, she didn't tell me either. You're her partner, Scarecrow, so I expect the two of you to communicate. Would you like to tell me what's going on with my top agency team?" Melrose didn't blink as he captured Lee with his penetrating gaze.

The flustered agent squirmed under the careful scrutiny. "Look, Billy, I don't know what's up with Amanda. She's bent out of shape over something or other."

"And, I suppose the something or other has nothing to do with you?" Melrose abandoned the chair and walked around the desk until he was directly in front of Lee. "Does this have anything to do with my partnering you with Francine?"

The Scarecrow façade snapped securely into place. "Why would that bother Amanda? She wanted to take the Thanksgiving holidays off. She wasn't available to go with me. End of story."

"Only it isn't the end of the story, is it Lee?"

"I don't know what you mean."

Melrose propped his hip on the edge of the desk. "Scarecrow I'm not blind. I know you and Amanda are involved in some way."

Lee studied his hands, unable to move. He didn't know what to say to Billy. His relationship with his partner was so secret, they'd never told anyone they were dating, let alone engaged.

"Scarecrow," Melrose continued, "despite my state of confusion during my recent 'lost weekend,' I do remember telling you that whatever your relationship is with Amanda, it's fine with me."

"Yeah, you did."

"So, I'm asking you to tell me what's going on with Amanda. I simply need to know if your relationship is adversely affecting your ability to do your jobs."

Lee looked at his boss. "The answer is no – it's not affecting our jobs."

"And, what else can you tell me?"

Lee pushed himself from the couch. "Okay, if you must know, it's complicated to be partnered with Francine, especially over Thanksgiving. Amanda wanted me to join her family for the holiday."

"I see." Billy locked his hands behind his back and walked over to the window. "Scarecrow, I would have given you the day off, but you put your name at the top of duty roster."

Lee cringed with frustration. He hated having his private life held under a microscope. "Well, you know me, I don't care for holidays."

"That's putting it mildly. Now tell me what I don't know."

Rising from the couch, Lee began to pace. "My refusal of the dinner invitation wasn't the worst part for Amanda. You know how Francine can be. She kind of rubbed the whole assignment in Amanda's face."

"Now I really do see." Billy cut loose with a belly laughed. "I'll try to be more sensitive to the tension between the two women in the future, but certainly Amanda realizes you still have to partner with Francine from time to time."

"Of course, she does, and she's okay with it. However, given the holiday and all . . . ."

"Yeah, I get the picture." Melrose walked over to Lee and put a fatherly hand on his shoulder. "Let me give you a little piece of advice that I've learned from my twenty plus years as a family man."

Lee didn't really want to hear any words of wisdom, but he made an effort to look interested. "What's that, Billy?"

"When it comes to the big holidays, just go with the flow. Christmas and Thanksgiving are very important to women and children."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it, but I still don't have to like it."

Heading toward the door, Melrose paused. "Oh, and Lee, I'd let the dust settle on this one – at least until the case is over. I don't want you preoccupied with trying to fix things with Amanda. Your assignment requires your entire focus from this point on."

"You can count on me, Billy. Besides, I don't have the energy to go another round with Amanda today."

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued:<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: **

**Niagara Falls - Evening before Thanksgiving **

Francine beamed with satisfaction as the Agency twosome relaxed in the Grill Room of the historic Red Coach Inn. "Our accommodations are luxurious. I love the English Tudor exterior and the warm English country ambiance?"

"Um-hum," Lee responded, patiently waiting for her to finish extolling the merits of the imposing three-story structure. "I'll say one thing for it. The place is ideally situated near the center of town, right across from the Cave of the Winds on Goat Island."

Francine was practically glowing. "This is the perfect setting for our honeymoon getaway. We have a romantic suite with a canopy bed, fireplace and view of the Upper Rapids. And we're only 1500 feet from the American Falls."

Lee nodded half-heartedly, focusing instead on the roaring fire in the natural stone fireplace. As the blaze danced and crackled, he felt mesmerized. The flickering flames, the gourmet meal, and the dark wood of the dining room all conspired to make him sleepy. Shaking the cobwebs from his head, he ventured his lackluster opinion. "The place does afford us a convincing cover while we watch for our couple."

She gave him a kick under the table. "Hey, sleepyhead, you'd better start acting like the enthusiastic bridegroom."

"Yeah," he said with little enthusiasm. Sitting up straighter, Lee put his arm around Francine. The effort of the façade was wearing on him.

After flying out of D.C. on Tuesday night, their plane had been diverted to Syracuse, due to zero visibility at the Buffalo-Niagara airport. Failing to catch another flight, they'd arranged for a car and had just made it to Niagara Falls only hours ago. Now they were hunkering down in the fancy bed and breakfast to wait for some action.

Lee felt miserable. With very little sleep and a crushing weight of guilt about Amanda, he found his usual zest for the chase to be in short supply.

He'd been a coward to skip town on her. Instead of staying and working through their differences, he'd used his job as an excuse to walk away from them. His behavior was strikingly similar to Joe King's mode of operation. Why would Amanda want to risk another marriage with a man who so easily skirted family commitment?

To make matters worse, he'd been pushing the issue of physical intimacy, even though he suspected she was still insecure about the parade of women from his past. While he was pressing for the fast track to consummate their relationship, she was sticking to the slow down plan. He'd played right into her nervousness by leaving town with Francine as his undercover bride. Here he was, all set up in a honeymoon suite with a former lover. By all appearances, it was a blatant affront to Amanda's unwavering trust in him.

"Are you finished with your dinner, darling?" Francine nudged his arm, as the waiter came to remove their plates from the main course.

Putting on a smile, he tried to shake off his worries and focus on the task at hand. "Please convey my compliments to the chef. The Black Angus Prime Rib was excellent."

"Thank you, sir. May I interest you in dessert?"

Leaning into the circle of Lee's arm, Francine played the part of a newlywed with her usual flare for the dramatic. "Something with chocolate, don't you think, darling?" she said as she perused the dessert menu. "The 'Death By Chocolate' cake sounds absolutely divine."

"Great choice, dear," Lee replied, blowing her a kiss. "We'll have two forks, please."

Watching the waiter leave, she laced her fingers with his. "So, what goes around comes around."

"What are you taking about, honey?" He raised her hand to his lips to reinforce their cover.

"It's been a long time since we've been together for the Thanksgiving holidays, darling."

He crinkled his brow, trying to follow her train of thought. "Oh, you mean the turkey incident," he whispered, pretending to nibble at her ear. "I suppose time does heal a lot of hurts. I thought you told me never to bring the subject up again."

"I'm not referring to the turkey," she said with a hint of indignation. "Surely, you remember, sweetheart. While the meal may have been ruined, the weekend was fantastic."

"Oh, yeah, right." He coughed into his hand, not wanting to go where she was trying to take him. "Although, you must admit, our turkey fiasco would make a good sketch for a television sitcom."

Francine put a little distance between their bodies, while keeping a phony smile locked in place. "You didn't tell Amanda, did you?"

"You mean about the bird? Of course not." Placing a hand on her arm, he attempted to defuse the conversation.

"Well, you'd better be telling the truth, Lee, because I don't want the happy little homemaker finding out about our disastrous attempt to cook a Thanksgiving turkey."

Lee balked at her reference to Amanda. "Hold on, Francine. She's come a long way since her happy little homemaker days."

"Oops. I'm sorry. I forgot you're now the president of the Amanda King fan club."

"Francine, please," Lee warned. He plastered a wide grin on his face as a bus boy walked by them.

"You need to promise me that you'll carry our secret to your grave."

"Some things are sacred between us, Francine." He raised three fingers in a show of loyalty. "Scouts honor."

She eyed him skeptically. "Ignoring the fact that you were never a boy scout, I guess I'll have to trust you on this one."

He winked and cleared his throat as the waiter returned with their dessert. "Oh, look at this," he said eyeing the chocolate ice cream and hot fudge sauce, dripping down the sides of the devil's food cake. "You go ahead, dear; enjoy some for both of us. It gives me a headache just looking at all the chocolate."

"Oh, darling, please, take a bite for me." She pierced the cake with her fork and made a great show of holding a small portion to his lips. "There, isn't it delicious?"

He forced a smile of satisfaction, wishing Francine wasn't so damn good at playing her cover to the max. "Mmmm, the cake just melts in your mouth. Go ahead and eat to your heart's content."

"This is to die for," she said, as she cut a small piece of the decadent dessert. "I'm going to enjoy every bite."

"Take your time, darling." Keeping his eyes peeled for Titov and Montgomery, Lee fought to block out his worries about Amanda. He had a job to do, and he needed to stay focused on his cover. Despite the longing for his partner, he knew teaming Desmond and Stetson together was a viable move by Billy. They had a solid history of pulling off the married couple routine. However, it was one thing to play act the role of lovers and something else entirely when they tried to translate it into real life. Their long ago personal liaison had failed miserably. He couldn't help but wonder if Francine ever fully recovered from the 1981 Thanksgiving holiday they shared together.

* * *

><p><strong>**** Flashback – Agency Staff Meeting - November 1981 ****<strong>

"Well, that about wraps things up, people." William Melrose dismissed the gathering with a wave of his hand. "All reports are due on my desk by four o'clock. Have a wonderful holiday. I'll see you here bright and early on Monday. And, oh yes, those who signed the duty roster will have their assignments by noon."

As the agency elite filed from the conference room, a dark hand reached for the tall figure taking deliberate strides toward the door. "Do you have a minute, Scarecrow?"

Lee sighed; he knew just what was coming. "Billy, I've earned some time off."

"I know, Scarecrow. I'm surprised; that's all. When your name isn't the first one on the holiday duty roster, I have to wonder if something is wrong."

"Billy, can't a guy take a day off without being interrogated?"

The section chief's eyes sparkled with amusement. "I'm just punching your buttons, Lee. Believe me, I'm relieved to see you take a badly needed holiday. Do you have a place to go? You're welcome to join Jeanie, the girls and me for Thanksgiving. The two of us can catch some football games on television."

Lee fidgeted in place, his nervous hand raking through his sandy brown hair. "Ah, thanks, Billy. But I can't. I'm, well . . . I'm sort of tied up." He blew out a breath, hoping the inquisition would end.

Francine poked her head in the door and made her presence known. "Stetson will be with me. I promise he won't go hungry."

Melrose nodded slowly, his brow crinkled with doubt. "Yes, well I suppose you two can have dinner at the 'Blue Fox' or 'L'orante'."

"Oh, no," Francine said with a smile. "I think we'll have a quiet Thanksgiving dinner at my place. Maybe we'll order some Chinese take-out and enjoy the down time."

Lee sighed audibly, carefully studying his feet for an uncomfortable moment. He didn't need his female counterpart announcing their intentions. No one even knew they were dating, let alone taking things to another level. "It will be just another ordinary day," he offered lamely. "It's hardly worth mentioning."

Billy coughed into his fist. "Yes, that's fine." Grabbing his folder and heading toward the door, he waved a farewell. "Have a wonderful holiday, people." Then in a softer tone, he added, "I hope you two know what you're doing."

* * *

><p><strong>SMK, SMK, SMK (flash back continues)<strong>

Francine and Lee stood in the checkout line of the "Jiffy Supermarket." Like countless other last-minute shoppers, they were impatiently waiting to purchase the necessities for the holiday weekend. If they were going to be ensconced at her apartment for the next couple of days, they needed to stock-up.

"I don't know why they named this place, 'Jiffy'," Francine complained as she piled the food on the counter and watched the cashier ring up the items.

After an eternity, the cash register finished totaling the bill. "It comes to $75.99, ma'am," the clerk announced in his youthful, squeaky voice. "You qualify for a free turkey." Picking up the microphone, the kid's voice blared over the intercom. "I need a free turkey for the lane three check-out."

"Oh, how quaint," Francine said with dripping sarcasm. "What in the world will I do with a turkey?"

The clerk shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. Whatever you want, I guess."

An impatient shopper bumped his grocery cart into Francine's backside. "Try cooking it, lady," he said, starting a growing undertone of annoyance among the long line of customers waiting to check out.

"Use it as a doorstop," offered another irritated consumer.

Lee glared at the agitated patrons and gave Francine's arm a sharp jab. "Take it," he whispered in her ear. "You can always drop it off a tall building and mortally wound an enemy agent."

Francine was not impressed. "I really don't want the turkey," she announced to the smirking teen behind the counter.

"Lady," he replied with a complete look of indifference. "You can explain it to the assistant manager. He has your turkey."

A harried little man, with glasses perched high on his balding head, rushed over to the counter. "Congratulations," he announced with pride, as he set the hefty turkey on the counter. "And our warmest wishes for a happy holiday."

Francine appeared unmoved by his enthusiasm. "No, thank you," she responded in clear, clipped words, leaving no doubt of her disdain for the bird.

"What?" The assistant manager's eyes widened as he studied his female customer. "You're refusing our twenty pound Grade A turkey?"

Francine looked at the badge dangling from his shirt pocket. "Ah, Gerald," she said, reading the details on his supermarket identification. "I don't want your turkey. I just want junior to finish bagging my groceries."

Poor Gerald was speechless. Apparently no one had ever turned down a turkey.

"Ingrate," shouted someone behind her.

"Take the damn turkey, lady," called another belligerent patron.

Lee flashed a fake smile toward the other customers and wrapped his arm around Francine's waist, hoping to calm the masses. "Darling, please, maybe we should take the turkey. We don't want to end up on the evening news for instigating a riot, do we?"

"Fine," Francine said, in a voice thick with sarcasm. "I'll take the turkey."

As Lee handed the kid four twenties, a small figure emerged from the crowd and placed a delicate hand on Francine's coat sleeve. "Dear," the old woman said, "maybe you should call the Butterball Hotline people. They can tell you how to cook a turkey."

* * *

><p><strong>SMK, SMK, SMK (flashback continues)<strong>

Lee couldn't help but wonder if he was walking into a minefield as he followed Francine into the sparkling white foyer of her first floor, garden apartment. The two of them had been pushing the boundaries of their professional relationship ever since they'd masqueraded as husband and wife on their undercover assignment at the Italian Embassy. What had started with innocent flirting was now on the cusp of a steamy relationship, although they'd both agreed there would be no strings attached.

"Earth to Stetson," Francine called, bringing him out of his musings. "Are you going to help me in the kitchen or not?"

Shaking off his fleeting thoughts, he jumped to her rescue. "Sure, let's get started."

The twosome bumped against each other as they worked to put away the groceries. Only the turkey remained on the counter, untouched and unacknowledged by both members of the clean-up crew.

With his thumb, Lee motioned toward the bird. "Okay, what do we do with the thing? It's not going to fit in the refrigerator, and it can't stay there."

"Oh, no," Francine said, with an emphatic shake of her head. "The turkey is your problem, not mine. After all, Lee, you insisted that I bring it home."

"Fine," he grumbled under his breath. "I'll just throw it in the dumpster. The sanitation truck will pick it up next week, right? By then the turkey should be pretty ripe and you'll have every dog in town sniffing around the garbage."

Francine eyed the turkey with utter contempt. "I guess we'll have to cook it, huh?" Fishing through a drawer for scissors, she made quick work of cutting the bird's plastic wrapper into a pile of small clippings. "There," she announced with satisfaction. "We have a completely naked turkey. What do we do now?"

Lee stared at the mess. "Nice work of cutting up the directions. How are we going to know what comes next?"

Francine fished through the remnants of her hatchet job. "Here," she offered, handing him a miniscule clipping. "It says to thaw the turkey."

"Uh huh, and how do we do that? If the bird just sits on the counter, it will take forever to thaw. I think we need to help it along." He crossed his arms and leaned his back against the refrigerator, waiting for some womanly advice. "Certainly you've cooked a chicken or something in your lifetime."

Francine glared at him. "Chauvinist," she murmured. "Must I remind you, Lee, I'm a successful career woman, working in a man's world and doing quite well, if I do say so myself. Sorry, if I haven't found the time to go to Mrs. Welch's 'Colonial Cooking' classes. I don't know anymore about thawing and cooking a turkey than you do. However, if you want a housewife to feed and care for you, I'm sure there are hundreds of delightful divorcees in suburbia."

"Okay, okay," he said, trying to placate her. "Point taken." Exasperated, he blew out a breath. "Well, it can't be too hard to thaw a bird. Maybe we should set it on the table outside. The weather is pretty mild today."

"Remember, the dogs, Stetson."

"Well, then, do you have a clothesline? Maybe we could string up the turkey, out of reach."

Francine shook her head at the notion. "It might work, but I don't have a clothesline."

Lee began a relentless pacing, back and forth across the kitchen. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers. "I've got it. We'll put the thing in the microwave."

Francine looked at the bird and back at Lee. "It will never fit."

"We'll make it fit." Reaching for the turkey, he lugged it to the microwave. Turning it first one way and then another, he came to the obvious conclusion. "You're right. It doesn't fit. Maybe we need to cut it in half. Do you have a hammer and a chisel?"

"Lee," she said with a rising note of irritation. "This is my apartment, not Pete's Auto Garage."

"Okay, scratch that idea." Carefully inspecting the kitchen, he poked through cabinets and perused the refrigerator. Examining a variety of items, he pulled out a couple of things that may prove useful.

"Lee, do you have to tear my kitchen apart? Really, what can you do with a stick of butter and a hotplate?"

"Francine, that's it."

"What's it? Honestly, Stetson, your enlightenment completely escapes me."

He tapped the butter against the hotplate for emphasis. "What did the old gal say to you in the supermarket? She said something about a Butterball Hotline. What the hell is a Butterball Hotline?"

Francine shrugged her shoulders. "I don't have the faintest idea, but I'll call information and try to get a phone number. You can crawl around in the cupboards to look for some kind of roasting pan."

"Thanks," he said to her back as she disappeared from the room. Dropping to his knees, he flung open the cabinet doors, searching for a pan he knew he'd never find. "Ouch," he groaned, rubbing the top of his head that collided with a shelf. "I'd rather be in a Turkish prison than stuck here cooking a turkey."

Footsteps announced Francine's return. "I wish I had a camera," she said, pointing to his hind end.

Indignantly he rose from his knees, brushing off the dust bunnies that had accumulated against the floorboards. "Well, what did you find out?"

Francine laughed. "You won't believe the answer. The Butterball Hotline said we should use the bathtub."

"We're supposed to use the bathtub?" He pondered the possibility for a second and then offered a devilish grin. "Well, it sounds like fun, but how does that help the turkey?"

"Honestly, Lee, the Butterball people were talking about thawing the turkey in a tub of water. The bird's too big for my sink, but they said the bathtub would work fine. We have to submerge it for several hours and keep adding cold water."

"Sounds simple," he said, relieved that they had a game plan. "I'll go drown the bird while you start the stuffing."

"Stuffing? What stuffing?"

"You know - dressing," he called from the bathroom. "It's the stuff that cooks inside the bird."

"Lee," she volleyed back, "My family always went to a restaurant on Thanksgiving day. Do you remember how your mother fixed stuffing?"

"Hardly," he said as he returned to the kitchen. "I was four years old the last time she cooked a bird."

Francine set a large pot on the counter with a loud bang. "Well, what about the military. How did the cooks in the mess hall prepare dressing?"

"With glue, I suspect." Lee stared at the five-quart Dutch oven. "Francine, you will never get a twenty pound turkey in that pot."

"We'll have to try," she replied with a dull laugh. "Maybe we can stand the turkey on end."

Lee opened the refrigerator and pulled out vegetables. "You've got onions and red peppers," he said. "Oh, and here's some horse radish. What seasonings do you have on hand?"

Rummaging through the cabinet over the stove, Francine pulled down various jars. "I've got some paprika, cayenne pepper, and chili powder."

"That ought to spice things up," he mumbled, second guessing their impromptu menu. "Got any bread?"

Francine searched through the bread box. "Everything is stale, but there are several slices of Rye and a half loaf of Pumpernickel."

Lee opened the wrappers. "Well, they have some mold, but I guess we could scrape it off. Maybe it won't be so bad once we cook it."

Francine shot him a look of disgust. "Lee just stop, please. We're not making stuffing from moldy bread and hot spices."

"Then fine," he said, jutting out his jaw in protest. "Maybe you'd better call the Butterball Hotline again and ask for a stuffing recipe. Then I'll go back to the Jiffy Supermarket and buy a roasting pan and whatever else we need."

* * *

><p><strong>SMK, SMK, SMK (flashback continues)<strong>

Several hours later, Lee set the thawed turkey on the kitchen counter. "Well, let's stuff this baby and get it in the oven," he said with sagging enthusiasm. "Then we can devote the rest of the night to each other."

A bedraggled Francine blew a strand of hair off her forehead and checked her watch. "It's way past midnight, Lee. Sorry, but no one gets to kiss the cook, tonight. A warm bath and a good night's sleep are in order. In my book, domesticity is a complete turnoff."

"Oh, is that so?" There was a clear ring of disappointment in his voice. "Don't I get a vote? First, you make me shop and cook, and then you banish me to what – the couch? I guess you don't have the stamina of the typical suburban housewife."

"How do you know what goes on behind closed doors in suburbia?" Francine gave him a look that could melt ice. "Listen, Stetson, I'm tired and frustrated, but I accept the blame. After all, I'm the one who let you talk me into accepting the turkey."

"I didn't want it," he said, feeling defensive. "I was merely trying to get us out of the store in one piece."

"Well, you've been hovering over the bird all night. I'm beginning to wonder if deep down you want a real Thanksgiving, complete with a homey fireplace, a table full of kids, and a little wife bustling about the kitchen."

"Francine, you know me better than that."

"Do I, Lee? Sometimes you act like you're looking for your lost childhood. If you need the nurturing, motherly type, then you need to look elsewhere for your companionship and pleasure."

"Fran-cine" he said, slamming his fist on the counter. His anger was getting the upper hand, and he didn't mind letting her know it. "Give me a break, will you?"

Francine met his scowl with equal venom. "That's exactly what I plan to do. You can take the couch or go home."

"What and leave you alone with the thing. Aren't you afraid you'll burn down the apartment?"

She looked at the turkey and then back at him. "Okay, great. We can share the bed, but only for sleeping."

"So much for a romantic evening," he grumbled.

Turning his back on her, he marched defiantly into the living room. Pacing the floor, he worked to control his temper. What the hell was he doing here? The last seven hours had been a nightmare. When it came right down to it, the domestic team of Stetson and Desmond was a joke. They may be able to bag a Hungarian double agent or dismantle an enemy bomb together, but in private life they were little better than Laurel and Hardy.

Coming to the doorway, Francine waited for him to acknowledge her presence. "So, how do we close down our operation?"

"Hell, can't you figure it out? Certainly you learned something practical in college."

Francine jutted out her jaw in clear exasperation. "I graduated from Sarah Lawrence, not some 'Sara Lee' cooking class."

In spite of his frustration, he couldn't help but laugh. "All right, let's get this over with." Once again, he followed her into the kitchen and took up guard duty over the turkey.

She pointed to the gapping cavity in the bird. "Somehow, we have to plug the hole."

Lee inspected the situation closely. "Where's your sewing kit?" He couldn't stop himself from offering her a phony grin.

She caught on immediately. "Oh, do you mean the kit I use for darning socks?"

Lee managed a sarcastic laugh. "I guess your sewing kit is with those elusive cookbooks, huh?" He started opening and closing drawers, banging them with too much force. "Let's see; you have a nutcracker, tongs, four wooden spoons, three spatulas, two cork screws and some 12 inch skewers. I guess they'll have to do."

Francine watched in penetrating silence as he maneuvered the long tools into place.

Pulling the band of skin over the bird's legs, he breathed a sigh of relief. "There, that should do it." He opened the oven door and pushed the turkey into place. "You preheated the oven, right?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"No, Lee, I didn't. Maybe you should have asked that question before you were ready to cook the bird."

He gazed at the ceiling and ran a weary hand across the back of his neck. "Forget it, just forget it. We can roast it from a cold start. It'll be in the oven for the rest of the night anyway."

Francine played with the dials. "Ah, Lee, I don't see anything that says roast."

"Hell, just choose something: bake, broil, roast, cremate. I don't care at this point."

She turned her head abruptly, her blonde hair swirling around her pinched face. "Fine then, if we overcook the turkey, it will be your fault."

"Isn't everything my fault," he whispered to himself. "Let's just call it a night." As he turned his back, he heard Francine press some buttons and slide a latch into place.

Something in her actions gave him pause, and he turned around to check. "Oh, no," he moaned, clutching his head with both hands. "I don't believe it."

"What?" she asked in alarm. "What's wrong now?"

"Francine," he ground out between clinched teeth. "You've activated the self-cleaning oven. Before the job is finished, our turkey will be a pile of ashes."

******** End of flashback *********

* * *

><p>Lee fidgeted in his chair when he saw his colleague eyeing him with a raised eyebrow.<p>

"What?" Francine asked as she wiped the last of the chocolate from her lips with her linen napkin. "You've been grinning about something."

"It's nothing worth mentioning," Lee answered, as he snapped the Stetson straight face back into place. Scanning their surroundings, he pocketed his credit card and rose to go. Then politely pulling out her chair, he whispered in her ear. "It's time to do our cozy-up together routine."

"Oh, darling, you finally decided to get with the program." Grabbing her purse, she slid an arm around his waist.

"Don't look now, honey," he said as his eyes darted toward the lobby. "I think our Russian groom and his new bride just entered the premises."

"Are you sure? They don't resemble their pictures." Francine discreetly paused to scan a display of tourist leaflets while she covertly eyed the suspects. Thumbing through a "Maid of the Mist" brochure, she offered her assessment. "If it's them, Montgomery has bleached her hair blonde, and Titov has shaved his beard."

Lee nodded in agreement. "The height and age look right for Titov, and he's wearing a typical ill-fitting, seedy Russian suit."

"Yes, and she has the good sturdy shoes and tweed jacket of a New England prudish schoolmarm. It's hard to believe a proper female professor would be swept off her feet by the womanizer, Titov." She elbowed Lee in the side. "But, then, stranger things have been known to happen. Sometimes Cupid's arrow flies wildly off course."

He coughed nervously. "Yeah, you know the old saying. Ah, opposites attract."

"I'm afraid so," she replied with a pointed look.

He didn't flinch under her scrutiny. "Okay," he said, changing the subject. "Montgomery is headed toward the elevator. Why don't you follow her. I'll nose around the front desk to see what I can find out."

"Meet you back at the Honeymoon suite."

"I'll be right along. Why don't you light us a fire, dear," he called.

"Okay, darling," she said with a laugh. "I'll he keep our bed warm."

* * *

><p>To be continued:<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five:**

**Arlington – The evening before Thanksgiving**

"Come Ye Thankful People Come. Raise the song of harvest home. All is safely gathered in, ere the winter storms begin. . . ." (By: Henry Alford, 1844)

* * *

><p>Closing her hymnal, Amanda sighed and slowly seated herself on the plump cushion in the third pew at the Arlington Presbyterian Church. It was the eve of Thanksgiving, and the neighborhood churches had gathered together for their annual ecumenical service. Her family had observed the occasion ever since the boys were little, and this year was no exception. Glancing down the pew, she smiled at the special people in her life. Mother, Aunt Lillian, Phillip, Jamie and Joe were all there to show their solidarity as family and to offer thanks for many blessings.<p>

In previous years, Amanda's heart had swelled with gratitude as she shared in the rituals of giving thanks. However, this year an agonizing ache took precedence over the abundant joy she felt in her heart. Lee was absent, but she wanted him here, sitting by her side, confirming the tremendous love and happiness they'd found in each other.

Instead, just weeks after the euphoria of their engagement, they'd hit some stumbling blocks in their relationship. Issues they'd never before discussed in detail were suddenly on the table, demanding resolution. Both of them, impassioned and strong-willed to a fault, had managed to reach an impasse.

Maybe she'd pressured him too soon about her family. Lee had made it abundantly clear that he wasn't ready to be front and center at her Thanksgiving gathering. While she thought she'd given him room to consider the invitation, he'd caught her off guard when he simply signed the duty roster.

It wasn't just his volunteering to work on Thanksgiving that tormented her. Lee had taken an assignment with Francine Desmond, his close friend and long-time colleague. "Friend" may be putting it mildly. The Agency's top agents had a steamy history together, even if it did occur long before the momentous day that Scarecrow and Mrs. King were thrown together in the world of danger, excitement and intrigue.

Amanda couldn't help herself. The cruel emotion of jealously had taken up residence in her heart. Francine and Lee were undercover as man and wife. They were at Niagara Falls, no less – the honeymoon capital of the world. Lee was going to share Thanksgiving dinner with Francine, not with his fiancée in Arlington where he belonged.

In her heart, she knew she could trust Lee. However, a small kernel of doubt had taken root in her mind. For years, Francine and Lee had subscribed to the same unwritten play book of field agents. The tenets were clear. They were to have no emotional entanglements, but they could enjoy a physical relationship when the opportunity presented itself.

Amanda could still hear his speech at the Cumberland Resort when she had gone undercover as Mrs. Lee Stetson. While arguing over the one bed accommodations, Lee had invoked the field agent's mindset. "If Francine had come along . . . liked we'd agreed, and . . . ." He hadn't needed to spell it out for her to get the picture. Certainly neither Lee nor Francine would have requested a roll away bed.

She couldn't help but wonder if, behind the hot temper and impulsive decision, Lee was struggling with wedding jitters before they'd even set the date. Maybe he was more frustrated than he let on, regarding her reluctance to have physical intimacy before they were married. Maybe he was afraid she wouldn't measure up to the excitement of his bachelorhood flings. Maybe he had doubts about a lifetime commitment to one woman with a ready-made family. The "maybes" were endless, and she was only borrowing trouble by projecting her own anxieties onto Lee.

People could change. Lee had more than proven himself over the last year. Somehow, she had to believe, whatever temptation crossed his path, he could remain true to the commitment they'd made to each other. All they needed was to carve out quality time together – just the two of them, working through their concerns and charting a course for an enduring future.

Slipping her hand inside her purse, her fingers sought the delicate fabric of Grandmother West's lace handkerchief. Reaching between the folds, she allowed herself a few precious seconds to caress the solitary diamond of her engagement ring. It was the assurance she needed to affirm the pledge of Lee's love and devotion. They'd get through the present difficulties and growing pains of their relationship, and somehow they'd come out the other side to a life full of hope and promise.

"Amanda, are you listening, darling?" Her mother's voice penetrated her thoughts.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"Darling, we're standing for the closing hymn. I don't think you heard a word of the sermon."

"Oh." Somehow she'd spent the entire worship service lost in private thoughts, but maybe her silent meditation was what she needed more than anything else. Rising with the others, Amanda reached to share her mother's hymnal.

Dotty's finger pointed to the title. "The hymn is 'Now Thank We All Our God.' Rev. Mills said Martin Rinkart wrote the hymn at the time of his wife's death. The poor man lost most of his congregation during the Thirty Years War and the Plague. Honestly, can you, imagine? We have so much to be thankful for, don't we darling?"

Amanda smiled. "Indeed we do, Mother."

"Shush," Aunt Lillian said in her stage whisper. "You're spoiling the music."

Amanda nodded to her aunt. Looking over her mother's shoulder at the words of the hymn, she identified with the author. Maybe an attitude of thankfulness and trust was exactly what was needed in times of personal pain and doubt. Joining in the singing, she felt the song speak to her situation.

"Now thank we all our God, with heart and hands and voices . . . ."

* * *

><p><strong>SMK, SMK, SMK<strong>

"Mom, when is the naked bird going to be out of here?" Holding the refrigerator door wide open, Phillip eyed the twenty-two pound turkey with clear disgust. "I can't find anything."

"What is it you want, sweetheart?" Amanda barely looked up as she rummaged through the small spice rack.

"All I need is the carton of milk, but your stupid Tom Turkey is blocking everything. Can't we just take it out of the fridge?"

Amanda set the thyme and sage on the counter, with a little more force than necessary. "Phillip, the turkey has to stay refrigerated until tomorrow morning." Reaching behind the bird, she handed her son the red and white carton. "See, that wasn't so hard."

"Yeah, thanks." Turning quickly, he collided with his father who was just entering the kitchen. "Ah, sorry, Dad."

"No, problem, Phillip." Joe opened the refrigerator door and peered around the turkey. "I don't see the bottle of beer I put in here when I arrived. Amanda, do you know what happened to it?"

"Well, I certainly didn't drink it, Joe." Once again, Amanda made the trek across the kitchen and scanned the contents of the refrigerator. "Here," she said, pulling the bottle from the bottom shelf. "It's right where you left it."

"Thanks." Her ex-husband looked at her with concern. "Are you all right, Amanda? You seem a little tense."

"Why would I be tense?" she asked, offering Joe a brave smile. Hopefully, the old ploy of answering a question with a question would appease him for now.

"You've been lost in thought all evening," he said, as he took a seat on the island stool.

She merely shrugged, not willing to share her worries with Joe. While the worship service had renewed her optimism, it had become harder and harder to remain calm as the evening wore on with no call from Lee. He'd been gone for more than twenty-four hours, but apparently had made no effort to contact her. If it wasn't for her supervisor, she'd be totally in the dark. However, so far, Mr. Melrose only said that Lee and Francine had arrived at their destination and were doing fine.

Joe took a swallow of beer and watched her for a moment. "Is there something I can do to help? You look tired tonight."

"No, sweetheart. Just keep the boys entertained." She turned her back on him and busied herself chopping onions. "Mother and I want to get the dressing made tonight so we can stuff the turkey first thing in the morning."

"Where's Grandma?" Jamie asked, coming into the kitchen with his football attire. "She promised to wash my uniform before our pick-up game at the park tomorrow."

Amanda set the knife down on the cutting board and pushed a lock of hair from her forehead. "Jamie, I'm not in charge of your grandmother. I can't keep track of her every single minute of the day."

"Oh," he said, giving his mother a puzzled look. "Then will you wash my clothes?"

Shaking her head, Amanda marched into the laundry room and returned with a box of laundry detergent. "Here, you boys are old enough to do a load of wash."

"Me? But you never make me wash clothes." Turning toward his father, he asked the obvious question. "What's wrong with Mom?"

"Nothing's wrong, son," Joe replied. "Your Mom's just tired. Here give me the clothes. I'll take care of them."

Amanda sagged against the counter, while a tear trickled down her face. "I'm sorry, Jamie. I didn't mean to snap at you."

The boy looked stricken. "Mom, are you crying?"

Wiping the moisture from her eyes, she silently berated herself. "No, sweetheart. It's the onions; they always bring tears to my eyes." She reached to pull his thin frame into her arms. "Everything is fine. Now go finish the movie you rented." Her guilt increased as she watched him cast a somber backward glance before retreating from the room. Certainly her evening's performance was light years away from her usual patience and understanding.

As Joe disappeared into the laundry room, a noise on the patio caught her attention. Please let it be Lee, she thought. Hurrying to the backdoor, she pulled it open with breathless anticipation. "Lee," she whispered when no one appeared.

"It's us, darling." Suddenly her mother scurried over the threshold, holding a pie with both hands. Aunt Lillian was close behind, carrying another pastry treat. "Look at this, Amanda," Dotty said, bursting with excitement. "Edna Gilstrap made us pumpkin and lemon meringue pies for tomorrow's dinner."

It was the last straw. "Mother," she said angrily, "we have enough dessert to feed an army. Why on earth would you accept two more pies from Edna? The refrigerator is already on the verge of a breakdown. What were you thinking? Certainly you could have said no."

Dotty's cheery demeanor turned decidedly dour. "Darling, I've never known you to turn down a pie."

"Amanda is having a bad night," Joe said, as he came out of the laundry room. "I think we need to give her some space."

"What's wrong, darling?" Dotty's motherly instincts kicked into high gear. "Did something happen?"

Amanda placed her face in her hands and eased herself to a stool. "I'm sorry, Mother. I don't know what's gotten into me."

"Oh, sweetheart." Dotty set the pie on the island and placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "We're your family. You can confide in us?"

"I know that, Mother, but things are complicated."

Aunt Lillian came over to join them. "I can't think of anything more complicated than your Mr. Stetson."

"What's going on with Stetson?" Joe demanded, suddenly taking on the role of chief protector.

Amanda groaned inwardly. She didn't need an inquisition from her family. "I don't know what's going on with Lee. He's working."

"You did invite him for Thanksgiving dinner, didn't you?" Dotty crowded in a little closer.

Now Joe joined the tight circle around Amanda. "Is Lee Stetson coming for Thanksgiving?" he asked with a hint of irritation. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Lee's not coming," she replied curtly. The scrutiny of her family was making her feel claustrophobic.

Dotty threw her hands in the air to accentuate her relief. "Oh, well, there you are. If Lee's not coming, you have a right to be upset, darling."

"Why's Mom upset?" Phillip grabbed an apple as he came into the kitchen.

Aunt Lillian put an arm around his shoulders. "Your mother's boyfriend can't come to Thanksgiving dinner."

"Mom has a boyfriend?" Suddenly the youngest King appeared on the scene to complete the interrogating team. "What boyfriend?"

"Mom's boss," Phillip said, with elder brother superiority. "You met him, worm brain?"

"Don't call your brother worm brain," Dotty, Amanda and Joe admonished in one accord.

Jamie's frown spoke volumes. "Do you mean the guy who left here in Dad's old clothes? Mom, why did your boss look like a homeless person?"

Phillip rolled his eyes. "The dude's not homeless. Have you seen the sports car the man drives around Arlington? Wow."

Jamie glared at his brother. "Well, maybe he needs to get a cheaper car and buy better clothes."

"Touché," Joe said. "That silver Corvette has confirmed bachelor written all over it."

"That's enough, all of you." Shouting above the fray, Amanda finally got their attention. She'd just about reached the end of her rope. No wonder Lee went running into the night and fled town on assignment. Sometimes her family could drive a person stark, raving mad.

"Okay, it's time for a family meeting," she said in no uncertain terms. "Please, everyone, find a seat." Amanda watched as they all filed into the living room. Smiling weakly, she contemplated her agenda. "I want to lay out some facts for you, and then I'm going to lay down a few rules."

"Do we get to vote on the rules?" Phillip asked, looking very pleased with his question.

"Be quiet, meat head," Jamie whispered. "I think Mom means business."

Amanda ignored both of them. "For the record, Lee Stetson is not poor. I tried to explain that to you boys the other night, but apparently you tuned me out. Also, to clear up any other misconceptions, Lee is out-of-town on assignment for IFF. He isn't planning to be here for dinner."

"Amanda, darling, we're sorry . . . ."

"Wait, mother, please let me finish." Her eyes scanned the sheepish expressions of her family. "The next time Lee does come to our house, I want everyone to be on their best behavior. I'm not a sixteen year old who needs to have her boyfriend cross-examined before a date. What's more, Lee is shy around families. He was orphaned at the age of five and raised by his bachelor uncle, a career military officer in the Air Force. Family life is difficult for Lee, and he will need all the patience and encouragement we can offer to help him feel at home."

Joe stood quickly, looking every bit like a courtroom lawyer about to approach the bench. "Amanda, do you think it's wise to date a guy who doesn't like being around a family? You have to think about the boys."

Amanda bit her tongue, resisting the urge to give Joe a piece of her mind. Her ex-husband had a lot of nerve. He, of all people, didn't fit the mold of a stellar family man. "For everyone's information," she continued, "Lee will probably love being around our family when he feels more comfortable with all of us. Actually he has happy memories of two wonderful parents, who loved him dearly."

"Of course, darling," Dotty said as she calmly motioned for Joe to sit down. "Professionals say the first five years of a child's life are the most important. I'm sure Mr. Stetson's parents gave him a solid foundation for adulthood. After all, he is such a nice man."

"And he's not bad to look at, either," Aunt Lillian added with a devilish grin.

Jamie looked poised for panic. "You're not going to marry the guy, are you Mom?"

"Marry?" she repeated, blindsided by her son's comment. The word hung there, like a billboard on Broadway. "Hold on, everyone. Let's stop right now. Everyone needs to take a huge step back."

All heads nodded in agreement. "Okay," they said in unison.

Counting on her fingers, Amanda itemized each key point. "First of all, Lee Stetson and I have worked together for several years. Secondly, over time, we've become very good friends. Thirdly, we are seeing a lot of each other, so you can expect that Lee will be coming by the house. I only ask you to treat him kindly and make an effort to get to know him, without overwhelming him."

Aunt Lillian looked contrite. "Oh, dear, I guess I was a little rough on Mr. Stetson."

"Rough doesn't begin to describe it," Amanda said with a pointed look at each member of her family.

"Darling, I'm so sorry." Dotty's blue eyes were filled with remorse. "I didn't mean to spill cider all over him."

"I know that, Mother, and Lee realizes it was accident. However, it was no accident that you bombarded him with questions."

Dotty locked gazes with her sister. "I'm afraid Lillian and I get carried away when we're together. We always did present a united front when it came to intimidating your little boy friends."

"Believe me, I remember it well." Amanda smiled at the memory. "And you and Daddy were very good at playing 'good cop, bad cop,' with my dates."

Joe laughed. "Now I know why I felt so uncomfortable at my first West family reunion. By the end of the evening, I was limiting my responses to grunts and monosyllables."

His confession seemed to break the ice. Quickly smiles and laughter spread to the others. "Okay, everyone," Amanda said, dismissing the group. "I think we understand how we need to proceed from this point on."

"We do understand, darling." Dotty walked over to Amanda and gave her hug. "You can count on our cooperation, right boys?"

"Sure," Phillip said with a grin. "Maybe, if I mind my manners, Mr. Stetson will give me a ride in his cool car."

Jamie stayed close to his father, but nodded his head in compliance. "Yeah," he finally said. "I'll try harder to be polite."

"You can count on us," Joe agreed, giving Amanda a kiss on the cheek. "Now, guys, lets wrap up our movie and get to bed."

As the men sat down on the sofa, Amanda watched the women head for the kitchen. "Mother, would it be all right if I leave the rest of tonight's preparation to the two of you? I need to get some rest."

"Of course, you should go to bed. I heard you pacing the floor last night - long into the wee hours of the morning." Walking back to Amanda, Dotty wrapped an arm around her daughter's waist. "Darling, do you remember what I said before Harry Beaumont left for Switzerland?"

"Well, you said a number of things, Mother. "Let's see, you told me that on a scale of one to ten, Lee Stetson is an eleven."

Dotty laughed. "That's absolutely true, but that wasn't the most important remark. I also said if you have a good thing going, don't hesitate. I can't think of anything sadder than to look back on a life full of regrets."

Amanda couldn't help but smile. "No, Mother, I don't intend to hesitate. I definitely have a good thing going."

"Try not to worry about Lee. It's obvious the man is enamored with you."

Feeling a blush warm her cheeks, Amanda merely nodded and headed for the stairs. "Goodnight, Mother."

"Sweet dreams, love."

Hurrying to her bedroom, Amanda took refuge behind the closed door. Finally she was alone with her thoughts and feelings. Every fiber of her being ached to hold Lee close tonight. His absence left a gapping hole that dreams could never fill.

Absently changing into her favorite ivory nightgown, she replayed the sticking points of their engagement period. At the very least, their arguments served to challenge their opposing attitudes. Each of them needed to be flexible, if they hoped to bridge their great divide.

Crawling beneath the covers, Amanda cocooned herself in the generous satin gown. Barely a year had passed since she'd worn the very same garment in the presence of her partner. The memory made her smile. My gosh, Lee had climbed up the trellis and entered her bedroom window to warn her of the terrorist group, Red February.

His sudden appearance had made her heart thump wildly in her chest, especially when he'd taken a seat on the edge of the bed and crowded her space. Cautiously, she'd held the bodice of the nightgown tightly against her breast as Lee passionately verbalized his concerns for her safety. The sparks had fairly flown between them when he'd held her hand and looked into her eyes. Even then, she'd sensed a burgeoning love and a silent commitment, irrevocably binding them together.

As colleagues and friends, they'd traveled far in their long journey toward marriage. Given their dangerous profession, it seemed pointless to limit their precious time together. When Lee returned, she needed to let her feelings dictate their way forward as a couple. Maybe the time had arrived to consider a short engagement.

Turning out the light, she hugged the extra pillow, imagining the feel of his body in her arms. "Goodnight, sweetheart," she whispered to the darkness. "I love you."

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued:<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six: **

**Niagara Falls: Red Coach Inn, Honeymoon Suite **

Entering their suite, Lee threw the room key on the cocktail table. "So what have you got?"

Francine stifled a yawn as she cut a path across the oriental carpet. "I followed the woman to room 315 - four doors down from us. I even watched from the maid's closet until the hubby showed up, too. It appears they're bedded down for the night."

"It's definitely them, I know it."

"Are you sure? Did the man have an accent?"

Lee ran a weary hand through his hair. "Yes, it was unmistakably Russian. He has to be Titov."

"Well, Ann Marie fit the mold of a bookish introvert," Francine said, as she tugged some pins from her French twist and allowed her golden locks to fall free. "She kept her eyes glued to the New York Times the entire time we were on the elevator. Forget trying to engage her in a conversation."

Shrugging out of his sport coat, Lee loosened his necktie. "Did you notice that Montgomery never once touched Titov, and he pretty much ignored her? I don't think they love each other."

"What?" In disbelief, Francine placed her hands on her hips. "Since when did 'Mr. Casual Relationship,' become acquainted with the finer points of love?"

"It was obvious," he defended. "You could see it in her eyes. She's scared of Titov, not in love with him."

"Give me a break, Stetson. Does Amanda have you reading her romance novels or just renting chick flicks at your local video store?"

Lee ignored her question and walked over to the window to avoid Francine's penetrating gaze. God, he was sounding more like Amanda all the time, but she was the one who taught him to notice such things. It wasn't until he saw the love in her eyes that he could see it on the faces of others.

"So what's the plan, Scarecrow? Are we going to make our move now or later?"

"We may be too late," he said, motioning for her to join him at the window. "Is that our couple hightailing it through the parking lot?"

Francine laid a hand on his back and peered over his shoulder. "It does look like them, and it appears they're about to drive off in a Subaru wagon."

"Let's go." Grabbing his jacket, Lee started for the door.

Navigating the long hallway on stiletto heels, Francine followed him down the stairs and out into parking lot. "You drive," she yelled, tossing him the keys to their rented SUV.

Lee floored the accelerator of the Chevy Blazer as they barreled into traffic on Buffalo Boulevard. "Is that their car up ahead?" he asked, hoping they were going in the right direction.

Francine leaned on the dashboard, straining to make out the distant taillights. "I can't tell, but let's make a left at Rainbow Boulevard. I bet they're planning to cross the border into Canada."

"I don't know, Francine. We've already got security watching for them at the Rainbow Bridge." Yanking the steering wheel hard, Lee spun the vehicle around and headed in the opposite direction.

Francine grabbed his arm. "What are you doing?"

"It's just a hunch, but I think we'd better check the Robert Moses Parkway. Titov and Montgomery are too 'hot' to cross the border right now. Get on the car phone and call out the troops. We're going to need back-up."

"I'm on it," Francine said, grabbing the phone

Lee pointed to their right. "Look over there; the Subaru is turning toward Goat Island. Hang on, Francine." He sped up, coming alongside the vehicle. With a sudden sideswipe, he bumped the wagon off the road. The impact sent the smaller car plowing through a fence and onto the embankment along the Niagara River.

Screeching to a dead stop, the Agency team leaped from the Chevy and drew their guns as they ran toward the suspects. "All right, get out of there now," Lee yelled, pulling Titov from the car.

Francine motioned Professor Montgomery from the vehicle. "Put your hands up, way up." Nudging her toward the others, she was startled when Ann Marie stumbled.

As the woman fell, Titov reacted quickly. Knocking the gun from Lee's hand, the Russian broke free and ran along the river bank.

Lee took off running in hot pursuit. "Francine," he hollered over his shoulder, "stay with Montgomery."

"Be careful," she called. "Don't fall in the river."

Making a flying leap, Lee tackled the assailant. "Oomph," he groaned as the impact dealt him a jarring blow. Momentarily dazed, he struggled to gain the upper hand.

Over and over they rolled, until they reached the water's edge. Dangling precariously, Lee's long fingers tightened around Titov's neck. Just as the Russian loosened his hold, the ground beneath them crumbled, plunging them both into the rushing Niagara River.

Immediately they were swept downriver, heading straight for the falls. In moments, they had passed the point of no return.

The numbing cold was paralyzing, but Lee fought against the swift current. He could hear sirens and see the red flashers of emergency vehicles. All along the shoreline, headlights were trained on them, but no one ventured into the rapids.

Titov was just ahead of him and rapidly approaching the brink of disaster. He didn't have a prayer of surviving the tons of water that crashed over the falls. For a few more moments, the Russian's head bobbed above the rapids, and then, in an instant, he disappeared from sight, falling into the great abyss.

As Lee waited for his own death plunge, he could only think about Amanda and the life they'd planned together. He was a fool to resist the treasure he'd been handed – a family to love. It was all he'd ever really wanted; only he didn't realize how much, until it was too late. Saying his silent goodbye to his beautiful Amanda, he prepared to meet his end.

Then suddenly, voices on the bank called to him. Somehow, he'd been swept into the shallow rapids along the shoreline. Ropes were thrown into the churning water, and rescuers stretched far over the protective railing. Just before Lee reached the precipice of the falls, he felt himself pulled sideways. Clutching the waiting hands, he was dragged to safety, only seconds before nature's mighty force could claim him.

* * *

><p><strong>SMK, SMK, SMK<strong>

The noise of the emergency room buzzed around him as Lee lay on the examining table in the hospital cubicle. Staring at the ceiling, he tried to make out the conversation between the doctors and nurses who were rehashing the condition of his bruised and battered body.

Despite all the odds, he'd made it out of this one. Even so, the moments of near death had been imprinted forever in his mind. The tumble of rapids, the roar of the falls, and the rush toward oblivion had been the most frightening experience of his life.

Over and over, he reminded himself he was here – breathing and conscious. He still had his life, his career and his Amanda. Looking toward the door, he wished she'd hurry into the ER and take charge of his care. He could picture her now in her Bedside Bluebell uniform, fussing over him with a bottle of antiseptic and a bowl of chicken noodle soup. She'd be fluffing his pillows, stroking his forehead, holding his hand, and reassuring him with her soothing voice.

"Hello, Lee." It was Francine's concerned face that came into view. She'd been there for him when he'd been pulled from the river. She'd been at his side during the ambulance ride to the hospital, and she'd intervened on his behalf with the police, other agents, and hospital personnel. She'd been a great friend when he had no one else, but she wasn't Amanda.

"Hi," he finally said, in a gravelly voice, still hoarse from his ordeal. "What's happening?"

Nearly asleep on her feet, Francine collapsed into the nearest chair. "Well, Titov is most certainly dead, and Ann Marie Montgomery has been handed over to the authorities. It appears she was being forced to go along with Titov against her will. She may very well be cleared of charges."

Lee pulled his arm from under the sheet and ran a hand through his still damp hair. "So, we saved another mathematician from being handed over to the Soviets?"

"Yes, thanks to you and your heroics. Hopefully, in a couple days, you'll be up and around again."

"I'll need some clothes," he said, trying to rise. "I'm going home."

"No, Lee. You can't. They're going to admit you for observation." Francine jumped from her seat and rushed to hold his shoulders down.

"Let go," he said, gritting his teeth as he weakly struggled against her grip. "Either you help me do this, or I'll do it myself."

"Stop it, Stetson. I'm not Amanda. You can't force me to cooperate with your foolishness." Her cool, authoritarian voice made it clear who was in charge. In this moment, her professionalism took precedence over their friendship.

"Please," he said, in a calmer voice. "Just get them to release me. You can lock me in the hotel room, but don't make me spend the night in this God forsaken place."

She studied him for a beat and then sighed. "Fine, I'll see what I can do." Turning on her heel she quickly disappeared into the hallway.

Within minutes she was back, carrying some green surgical scrubs. "Okay, you win, but you have to wear these." She tossed the garments on the table. "The attending physician will release you on the condition that you see a doctor in the morning."

"Great, Francine. I owe you a dinner."

"You owe me more than that," she said with a luminous smile. "And I intend to collect."

* * *

><p><strong>SMK, SMK, SMK<strong>

Lee awoke with a start, his heart pounding with terror until he realized he was caught in the throes of another nightmare. Every time he dozed off, he found himself trapped in the swirling rapids. The nightmare always ended with him plummeting into the deep gorge of a watery grave.

Pulling off his pajama top, he mopped the perspiration from his upper body and then laid back down. Tossing and turning, he tried to find a comfortable position, until suddenly his arm encountered the soft skin of another body. He jumped like he'd been burned by a hot flame.

Then recognition dawned. Of course, it was Francine. They'd failed to discuss sleeping arrangements when they returned from the hospital. In his dazed, exhausted state of mind, he'd practically fallen into bed, without giving any thought to his partner. At some point during the night, she'd obviously joined him in the generous king size bed of the honeymoon suite.

"Are you having trouble sleeping?" The disembodied voice of his colleague seemed very close in the darkness.

"Ah, yeah, I am," he said, inching toward his side of the bed.

A gentle hand reached across the black chasm and touched his shoulder. "Anything, I can do to help?"

"No." The answer was too loud and abrupt, even to his ears. "I mean, thanks, but I'm okay."

"Well, let me know if there's something you want. If you need a drink or a back rub or a listening ear, I'm here for you, Lee. You don't have to relive your trauma alone."

"Thanks, I appreciate the offer, but I'll be fine."

"Suit yourself." Rolling away, she left him to his thoughts.

As silence pervaded the room, he tried to relax. Hell, now he knew how Amanda must have felt, early in their relationship. No wonder she complained when they had to go undercover as a married couple. A bed never felt smaller then when two uninvolved people were forced to share it.

Dozing fitfully, he tried to focus on all the things he loved about Amanda. Like counting sheep, he enumerated her warmth, intelligence, loyalty, bravery, and classic beauty. Finally, on the cusp of sleep, he began to dream that Amanda was in his arms. Stroking the softness of her hair, he pulled her closer to his body.

"Ah, Stetson," a startled voice called. "Are you trying to relieve some of your work related stress?"

"Oh, my God," Lee gasped, bolting upright in bed. In his haste, he bumped Francine's jaw with his elbow.

"Ouch," she hollered.

"Francine, I'm so sorry, I didn't know it was you. I was dreaming about A . . . ."

"Amanda," she finished for him. She was off the bed in a flash, yanking on a robe and slamming the door as she made her way to the living room.

Running a hand through his hair, he searched for a guest bathrobe and then padded across the carpet in his bare feet. Opening the door, he prepared to make amends. Slowly, he took a seat on the sofa and waited for her to return from the kitchenette with her drink. "Look, Francine, I didn't mean to insult you."

"Well, you did, Lee. I've always been a close, caring friend, but you acted like you found a tarantula in the bed." She stood there, rigid and regal in her white silk robe, with her blonde hair hanging loose around her shoulders.

"I'm sorry." It was a trivial response, but it was all he had at the moment.

She took a sip of her wine and set the glass on the cocktail table. Clearly, she was ready to give him a generous piece of her mind. "Here we are in a luxurious honeymoon getaway," she said, letting her arm sweep the beautiful setting. "We just wrapped up a very dangerous assignment, and we're grateful, beyond words, that you made it out alive. Why wouldn't I suspect you might seek physical comfort on the night you were nearly swept over Niagara Falls?"

His eyes shifted away from her piercing gaze. He was guilty as charged. "I know," he said quietly. "In the old days, you would have been right on the mark. However, things are different now."

"Lee, what happened to you?" Tucking a leg under her, she settled gracefully into a Queen Anne chair, leaving one shapely leg peeking through the slit in her long nightgown. "Somewhere along the road, you picked up a new play book and forgot to inform me of your new code of ethics. I have no idea how to read your signals anymore."

"I'm a different man," he said simply. "The transformation happened so slowly, I didn't recognize it at first. At some point, I grew tired of fancy nightclubs and the parade of women in my life."

"Well, I'm not just one of your fleeting flings," she said with clear offense. "We go way back, share a romantic history and enjoy a strong friendship and working relationship. I have a right to know if our long journey together has diverged onto two different paths."

"Listen, I do value you as a great friend and colleague. However, it's been a very long time since we sought any intimacy with each other." His long fingers nervously tapped the cherry end table as he silently berated himself for the mess he'd made in the lives of two special women. "Francine, you certainly know me well enough to see the subtle changes in my life."

Tucking her blonde hair behind her ear, she looked at him with steely blue eyes. "Have you really changed, Lee, or are you just wrapped up in your latest affair?"

"Francine, I'm not having an affair," he shot back, frustrated by her accusations. Part of him wanted to blurt out that he was engaged, but the other part wasn't ready for the mind-boggling complexities such a revelation would create.

It was clear by her scowl, that his colleague would show him no mercy. "I can imagine what's going on, and so can half the people at the Agency. Scarecrow is having a fling with his partner. What are you going to do when you grow tired of Amanda? She may not want to work with you when the affair fizzles."

"Francine it's not like that at all. You know Amanda. She isn't the type to have a fling."

"Then I suppose you two enjoy a nice safe platonic relationship. How long will you be satisfied with hanging out in suburbia with your partner? Do you escort her to soccer games and take the boys to Goofy Golf?"

"No, but it could be fun. I've watched over Phillip and Jamie from a distance for a very long time. It would be nice to get to know them."

Francine rolled her eyes. "Then what happens? Will you help out with the PTA, paint the white picket fence, and trade in your Corvette for a minivan? You're not only fooling Amanda; you're fooling yourself, too. As an internationally acclaimed super spy, you're never going to fit into the provincial world of a suburban mom."

"Maybe not," he said, acknowledging his own self-doubt, "but, I sure as hell, think it's worth a try." Rising stiffly from the sofa, he walked over to the phone.

"Who are you calling at four o'clock in the morning – Amanda?"

"No, Francine, I'm calling the airport. I'm going home today."

* * *

><p>To be continued:<p> 


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven: **

**Maplewood Drive, Arlington: Thanksgiving Day**

"Oh, there's no place like home for the holidays . . . ."

Dotty and Aunt Lillian playfully sang along with the catchy Perry Como record. It was number one on their personal holiday hit-parade of golden oldie favorites, ranking just ahead of "Bless This House" and "Over the River and Through the Wood."

Amanda watched from the kitchen, enjoying their antics as they set the dining room table for the family feast. The sisters had been in overdrive for a week, preparing for the Thanksgiving celebration like it was Inauguration Day at the White House. Now, with the dinner in the oven, they adorned the table with an antique lace tablecloth, linen napkins, silver candlesticks, and a festive cornucopia.

Closing the oven door, Amanda wiped her hands on a towel and called to her mother. "I think the turkey can come out of the oven in about an hour. If you don't mind, I'm going upstairs to shower and change my clothes. Joe will be here any minute."

"You go ahead, dear. Lillian and I will keep an eye on things."

"Thank you, Mother." Stepping into the family room, Amanda stood between the television and her sons. "Boys, your sweatshirts need to come off. I'd like you to put on the argyle sweaters that Aunt Lillian gave you."

"Ah, Mom, do we have to wear scratchy sweaters?" Glancing up from his video game, Phillip offered his best teenage scowl, a look he'd honed to perfection since his thirteenth birthday.

Amanda pointed toward the stairs. "I don't need any arguments, young man – just do it."

Jamie motioned toward the television set. "Wait, Mom. I want to catch the breaking news; some guy has been swept over Niagara Falls."

"Cool!" Phillip moved toward the TV to have a look. "Did he go over the falls in a barrel?"

Jamie shook his head, not taking his eyes off the screen. "No, dog breath. I think it was an accident."

Amanda's radar went on high alert. Taking a seat on the sofa, she waited with bated breath. All she could think about was Lee's assignment at Niagara Falls. Surely this couldn't have anything to do with his case, could it?

"Here it comes," Jamie said, pointing at the newscaster on the television.

"Last night, an unidentified man was swept over Niagara Falls to his death. His body was recovered only moments ago. At this time, the police have not stated a probable cause. The victim was only listed as a John Doe. However, several emergency volunteers speculated the death was not the result of a daredevil or publicity stunt. One eyewitness claimed to have seen a fight just prior to two men falling into the Niagara River. It's believed the other man may have been pulled to safety by rescuers. There are no other details available at the moment, but we'll bring you updates as more news comes in."

Amanda sat stunned. News of a fight, news of a John Doe, and news without details were typical of the sketchy reports released when an intelligent agent was involved. All of her instincts told her the story was related to Lee's assignment.

The ringing of the telephone and her mother's voice jarred her from her shock. "Darling, the call is for you."

"Oh." Amanda's feet felt like cement blocks, as she moved toward the telephone. "Is it Lee?" she asked, praying his voice would be on the other end of the line.

Dotty looked at her daughter with alarm. "No, dear. It's Mr. Melrose. Why would he be calling you on Thanksgiving?"

"I don't know, Mother." With trembling hands, Amanda took the phone, waiting for some privacy before she could take the call. "Hello, sir."

"He's okay," Mr. Melrose said clearly.

Amanda felt her knees buckle with relief. Sagging to a chair, she struggled to find her voice. "Sir, I just saw the news on television. Was Lee one of the men who fell in the Niagara River?"

"Yes, Amanda, but he was the one pulled to safety. I'm sorry I didn't get to you sooner. The police promised to bury the story, but obviously someone released it."

"Is Lee all right?"

"According to Francine, he's been better. He was exposed to frigid temperatures, swallowed a lot of water, and literally got snatched from certain death. Even Lee feels this one was a little too close for comfort."

"Oh my gosh. Is he in the hospital?" she asked, already formulating a plan to go to him.

"Well, the doctors wanted Lee to spend the night, but you know the Stetson stubbornness; he adamantly refused. He convinced Francine to drive him back to the hotel last night. She's been taking care of his needs."

"Oh, I see." She didn't know what else to say. Of course, Lee would have to depend on Francine.

There was an awkward silence as Billy cleared his throat. "Scarecrow's coming home, Amanda. He told me to tell you he'll see you later today."

"Sir, what flight will Lee be taking? I'd like to meet his plane."

"That won't be necessary, Amanda. We'll send a car. Both Lee and Francine can go home this evening and be debriefed in the morning."

"Sir, please, I need to be there when he arrives. I'll pick them both up."

"Well, they're on US Air, Flight 3145 – it's due to touch down at National Airport in about fifty minutes."

"I'm on my way. Goodbye, sir."

Abruptly hanging up the phone, Amanda practically collided with Aunt Lillian, who suddenly materialized by her side. "Oh my gosh, you startled me."

"I'm sorry, dear," she replied, looking a little guilty. "I couldn't help but overhear the last part of your conversation. Is Lee all right?"

Amanda hesitated, wondering how long her aunt had been eavesdropping. "Lee's not feeling well, so he's coming home today."

"What's wrong with Lee?" Now Dotty joined the inquiry.

Sighing softly, Amanda tried to remain calm as she fielded the barrage of questions. "Lee took a fall and got a little banged up, but he's all right."

"Oh dear," Dotty said. "Did he break anything?"

"No, Mother. He's just sore and needs to come home." Heading for the stairs, she called over her shoulder. "I'm going to pick him up at National."

"We'll hold dinner, darling. I'll set another place at the table for Lee."

"I can't promise he'll come, Mother."

"Well, you tell him we won't start eating without him."

* * *

><p><strong>SMK, SMK, SMK<strong>

Amanda nervously paced the airport concourse, wringing her hands with worry as she stood outside Gate 15, waiting for Flight 3145 to disembark. One by one, the passengers came through the door, but there was no sign of her fiancée. She was just beginning to think he'd missed the flight when Francine appeared in the doorway.

Lee followed slowly, several feet behind his colleague. He looked terrible. His face was ghostly white and his shoulders slumped liked he carried the weight of the world. Obviously, the near death experience at Niagara Falls had exacted quite a toll.

"Lee," she called in her raspy voice, waving to him through the throng of people.

He looked around in confusion, until he spotted her moving toward him. Immediately his face lit up, and he dropped the carry-on bag to the floor. "Amanda," he breathed with an audible sigh of relief.

In two more steps, she was there, engulfed in his embrace. Standing on tiptoe, Amanda wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. "Thank God, you're safe."

They stood there, holding each other and rocking back and forth in the comforting ritual, so uniquely their own. How many times had they held each other, just like this, after a particularly trying assignment?

Finally, pulling away, she searched his eyes, seeing the haunted look that confirmed the depth of his trauma. "Sweetheart," she whispered, choking on the word. "Billy told me what happened. Are you, okay?" Unable to stop shaking, she busied her hands with smoothing down the lapels of his sports coat.

Lee's chest heaved beneath her palms. "I'm fine, now that you're here," he said, his voice gravelly with torment. Quickly his hands fumbled for hers, never pausing until he could lace their fingers together.

A light laugh jogged them from their private reunion. "Sorry to break up your touching scene, but we need to get Lee off his feet."

"Hello, Francine." Amanda's cheeks burned with embarrassment when she remembered their audience. "I didn't mean to ignore you. It's just that I was so worried about Lee. I hope you're okay, too."

"Save it, Amanda. I get the picture." Francine carefully handed Lee his carry-on bag and started walking toward the baggage claim area.

Lee wrapped his arm around Amanda's waist, as they tried to keep pace with their prickly colleague. "It's been pretty rough for Francine, too," he whispered. "She's been very concerned about me."

"So, I see." Amanda bit her lip. This was not the time to burden Lee with the private tug of war she shared with Francine. There was no getting around it – in their own separate ways, they both cared deeply about him. Someday, when the time was right, the two women would have to sit down together and make their peace with each other's role in Lee's life.

"Did you bring the Wagoneer?" he asked, pulling her from her reverie.

Amanda nodded. "Yes, I'll pull up to the terminal? Then I can deliver both of you to your apartments. Billy said the debriefing will be tomorrow."

"Great," Francine said. "I can't wait to get home and sleep for twelve hours."

Watching the blonde disappear around the side of the baggage carousel, Amanda started for the exit.

"Wait," Lee said. Steering her behind a pillar, he leaned in and kissed her with such intensity, he trembled against her slight frame.

"Wow," Amanda managed to say, before returning the favor. Holding him tightly, she offered her own searing kiss, filling it with all the pent-up longing that consumed her heart and soul.

Pulling back slowly, he finally caught her gaze. "I'm really sorry, Amanda. I realize I was a complete jerk."

"I'm sorry too, sweetheart," she said, patting his chest. "I'm not proud of my behavior in the heat of our fight. However, a few growing pains have to be expected for any engaged couple." She cupped his face in her hands until she was rewarded with a smile. "Now that you're home, we can get back on track."

"You bet," he said, affirming her words with a delicate kiss. "So, am I still invited to dinner?"

"Of course you're invited, Lee." Pulling a tissue from her pocket, she wiped the telltale lipstick from his mouth. "However, I don't expect you to come to my house today. You need to be home in bed."

"I'm coming to dinner." His commanding tone left little room for argument. "If you have to carry me on a stretcher, I'll be there."

"Lee, you can hardly stand up now. You need to listen to your body."

"Well, my body is telling me it wants to be fed."

"I'll bring you some dinner, once you're rested. Okay?" She led him to a broad ledge along the baggage carousel and gently tugged on his arm, until he finally sat down. "There, doesn't that feel better?"

His frown told her otherwise. Still resisting her unsolicited aid, he touched his finger to her lips as she stood beside him. "Amanda, please listen to me. I've literally been through hell and high water to get here. Last night, I thought I was going to lose all the people that matter to me the most. Do you know who I mean?"

"Yes," she said, with a catch in her voice. "You mean my mother, my sons, and me."

"Exactly. Even though Dotty and the boys barely know me, I've been watching over them for years. I want to do whatever it takes to make them my family, and that means being with all of you for Thanksgiving."

As her eyes filled with tears, she wrapped him in her arms and held his head to her shoulder. "I know, sweetheart, and I'm thankful beyond words that you want all of us."

"Then I'm coming," he said in no uncertain terms.

Hesitating briefly, she offered him a knowing smile. She knew how to play him. All their field experience had taught her well. "Will you promise to eat everything on your plate?"

"Amanda, I'm not a child," he grumbled with a mixture of amusement and contempt. Apparently catching on to her game, he finally relented. "Fine, I'll eat everything on my plate."

"Even the beans?" Somehow she managed to keep a straight face.

"Oh, come on, you're not having beans for Thanksgiving dinner, are you?" Even he smiled now.

She caught his eye. "Well, maybe not baked beans, but Mother has a green bean casserole she'll expect you to eat."

"Okay, I promise."

"And do you promise to go home and go to bed after dinner?" She raised her eyebrows, expectantly.

His mouth widened into a mischievous grin. "I will, but only on one condition."

"Oh?" She knew exactly what was coming. "Okay, I accept, but I need to know the terms of your one condition."

"Fine," he answered with a wink. "You have to promise to tuck me in."

She offered her own wink in return. "It will be my pleasure."

* * *

><p><strong>SMK, SMK, SMK<strong>

"Hello, Lee." Dotty closed the front door and reached to take his coat. "We're very happy you could make it back."

"Thank you," he said, his hazel eyes locking with Amanda's gaze, in poignant understanding. "I'm glad I could make it back, too."

"Come on, let's sit down." Amanda patted his arm and pointed him toward the family room. Taking a deep breath, she wondered what kind of reception he would get from the other men in her life. Thankfully, they didn't disappoint her. Before she could begin to prompt them, Joe and the boys stopped what they were doing and moved toward Lee.

"Hi, Mr. Stetson," Jamie said, adjusting his large glasses against his nose. "There's a neat football game on television. The Minnesota Vikings are playing the Dallas Cowboys."

"Sounds great, Jamie."

Joe extended his hand. "Hello, Lee. It's good to see you again."

"You, too, Joe."

"Mom, when do we eat?" Phillip tucked a football under his arm and made a fake run toward his father. Then, with a slick move, he handed off the ball to Lee. "Hi, Mr. Stetson. I heard you played football in college. How about, we toss the old pigskin around after dinner?"

Lee opened his mouth to speak, but Amanda intercepted the question. "Not today, Phillip. Mr. Stetson needs to sit down and relax."

"I'll take a rain check, chief." Lee grinned and handed the ball back to the eager teen. "Maybe the four of us can play the next time I come," he said, gesturing toward Joe and Jamie, too.

Aunt Lillian entered the family room, her blue eyes sparkling with merriment. "Dinner is served," she announced, as she corralled Lee with one hand and Amanda with the other. Walking them toward the dining room, she beamed like a successful matchmaker. "You two make such a lovely couple."

"Well, look at this?" Lee's eyes scanned the enormous offering of food. "You aim to please."

"We've cooked all the family's favorite recipes," Aunt Lillian explained. "How can we miss with sweet potato casserole, mashed potatoes and gravy, green bean casserole, cranberry salad, Swiss corn bake, chestnut stuffing and homemade rolls."

"And don't forget the crown jewel." Dotty made her grand entrance, carrying the golden brown turkey, roasted to perfection. "Lee, you get first dibs on a drumstick."

"Wow!" he said, grinning like a small boy. "What a turkey!"

"Wait until you see the pies." Phillip pointed toward the sideboard. "We have pumpkin, apple, mincemeat and pecan."

"And Lemon meringue," Jamie added with a look of pleasure.

Lee seemed overwhelmed. "The cooks have outdone themselves. You ladies should take the next week off."

Joe nudged Lee's elbow. "Thirty minutes from now, our feast will be history. With two growing boys in the house, we'll be lucky to have enough leftovers for a couple of turkey sandwiches."

"Okay everyone," Dotty announced with a clap of her hands. "Dinner is getting cold. Let's find our seats. Lee you'll sit with Amanda, over by Aunt Lillian."

Amanda could scarcely contain her happiness as Lee held her chair and then took the seat beside her at the table. Squeezing his hand, she was rewarded with his dimpled grin. "Welcome to the family," she whispered in his ear.

It had been a long, hard road for the two of them. In three years, they'd gone from bickering co-workers, to fast friends, to dedicated partners, to engaged couple. The solitary man, living in the shadows of her life, was now the honored guest, basking in the warmth of her home and family. It was a miracle of sorts – one for which she was truly thankful.

* * *

><p><strong>SMK, SMK, SMK<strong>

Dotty deposited an armload of dirty dishes on the counter and stood watching her daughter fill a plate with leftovers. "What are you doing, darling? Didn't you get enough to eat?"

Amanda sighed inwardly. Leave it to Mother to catch her red-handed. "I'm fixing a plate for a friend. One of our colleagues is stuck at home in bed. She might feel like eating something this evening."

"Oh, well, that's very sweet of you, dear. Don't forget to take her some dessert, too. We have more pies than we can eat."

"You're right, Mother. I think I'll take her a slice of pumpkin and a slice of apple."

Dotty plunged her hands into the soapy dishwater and began to wash Grandmother West's crystal goblets. "Is Lee going with you on your errand?"

"Yes, Mother."

"The poor man looks exhausted. Honestly, that film company of yours must work people to death."

"You have no idea," Amanda mumbled to herself.

Dotty waved a soapy hand in the air, raining bubbles on the kitchen floor. Wiping up her mess, she peered into the family room. "Apparently Lee fell asleep on the couch. I don't know how he managed to doze off with the television blaring and the boys wrestling on the floor."

"He's completely worn out, Mother."

"Well, in my opinion, you should take Lee home and put him to bed."

Amanda felt a hot flush spread from her neck to her cheeks. She didn't want to have this particular conversation with her mother. "I'm going to drive him home soon. I shouldn't be gone very long."

"Take all the time you need, darling. I think Lee needs some tender loving care." Dotty abandoned the dish washing and pulled out the aluminum foil to wrap up some leftovers. "In fact, be sure to take a house key, just in case you get home after we've all gone to bed."

"Mother," Amanda said with alarm, "it's only six-thirty. I plan to be home long before all of you go to bed."

"Darling, sometimes dates can take more twists and turns than a meandering, mountain road. It's best to be ready for anything."

"So, you've told me." Amanda shook her head in defeat. Her mother was an excellent "black belt confuser." Her innuendos just rolled off her tongue, disguised as perfectly innocent remarks. "Excuse me, Mother, I have to get some things together, and then I'd better run my errands."

Before she made it to the hall closet, she felt two strong hands grab her from behind. "I think your mother is a very wise woman. She's absolutely right. I definitely need some tender loving care."

"You heard what she said?" Amanda buried her face in her hands.

Lee laughed. "Isn't this the same woman who goes on long weekends with your father's old fishing buddy?"

"Sweetheart," that happened once. Hunter Conrad is an old family friend."

"From what you told me, Dotty and Hunter did more than fish."

"Shush, don't let Mother hear you. She'll be on the phone, booking us a romantic coastal getaway."

Moving in closer, he whispered in her ear. "Hey, I'm just teasing you, Amanda. Believe me, I'm not pressuring you. I'm certainly too tired to pose any threat tonight."

"Good," she said, with an impish grin. "Is it safe for me to offer a little hands-on care at your place?"

"Absolutely, I intend to be the model patient."

Amanda reached into the closet and pulled out a canvas bag. Placing the straps over her shoulder, she pointed toward their coats. "Shall we get ready to go?"

He didn't budge. "What do you have there?"

"Oh, you mean in the bag? It's just an assortment of lotions and oils that I pulled together a little earlier. Since I accused you of being a turkey the other day, I thought a good rubdown would be in order. You know, we need to get you ready for our big day."

Lee looked more than pleased. "I like the way you think, Mrs. King."

"Well, I also want to reward you for your heroics and ease any lingering pain."

His grin only got bigger. Pulling her close, he planted a light kiss on the corner of her mouth. "Let me thank your family, and then we'll be on our way."

As they stepped into the living room, Aunt Lillian handed Lee a long package, wrapped in festive fall paper. "It's something I picked up on our bus trip to Stockbridge, Massachusetts."

"Oh?"

"Yes, Dotty and I visited the Norman Rockwell Museum. It had a wonderful display of the artist's famous paintings, so I bought a framed print of one my favorites. "At first, I didn't know exactly what to do with it, but then inspiration struck when I met you."

Lee carefully took the package. "Well, thank you. I can't wait to open it."

"Actually it's for both you and Amanda," Lillian continued. "Special people deserve a special gift. Consider it a token of my appreciation for all you do."

Lee turned toward Amanda, exchanging a cautious look. "Should we open the gift now?"

She shrugged, wondering if her aunt could be trusted to keep a lid on her suspicions. "Maybe we should open it later."

"Darling," Dotty said, "we're all curious."

"Well, okay." Amanda motioned toward the sofa, hoping Aunt Lillian wasn't about to blow the lid off their secret life. Maybe she'd overheard a little too much of the phone conversation with Mr. Melrose. "Let's all sit down and have a look at the gift."

Carefully removing the paper, Amanda folded it neatly in her lap, while Lee turned the frame around for everyone to see. "Oh, this is wonderful," she said, looking at the four pictures, all displayed together under a pale blue mat. "They're the Four Freedoms. Norman Rockwell has portrayed freedom of speech, freedom to worship, freedom from want, and freedom from fear."

Lee examined the gift carefully. "My parents had the same pictures. I think my mother cut them from a magazine and pasted them in an album. They're still in a trunk that my uncle saved for me."

Amanda put a comforting arm around Lee, understanding how difficult it was for him to talk openly about his family. "Then the pictures have special meaning to you."

"Well, isn't that a coincidence," Aunt Lillian said. "Actually Norman Rockwell based the paintings on a speech by President Franklin Delano Roosevelt that was given before Congress on January 6, 1941. Maybe you two should hang the pictures at your office where others can see them. It will serve as a reminder of what all of you work so hard to protect."

Phillip looked dubious. "I don't get it. What do Mom and Mr. Stetson protect?"

"Yes, Amanda," Dotty said with a raised eyebrow. "We're all anxious to hear how this is connected to your jobs. If I'm not mistaken, your last documentary was about tractors."

Amanda ventured a glance at the rest of the family. All eyes were trained on her, waiting for an explanation. "Well, tractors plow the fields that grow the food to feed a hungry nation. IFF strives to promote freedom from want in its documentaries."

"That's correct," Lee added. "IFF is concerned about all human rights – the freedom to say what you think and worship as you choose, protection from the threat of war and environmental hazards, and the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. You name it and we're involved."

Jamie leaned forward, ready to have his say on the matter. "So why does IFF keep big government secrets? Dad works for the Emergency Aid Organization and that's not a secret?"

Joe put his arms around the boys. "Maybe someday your Mom and Lee will explain things in more detail. I think we need to trust them on this for now."

"Thank you, Joe," Amanda said, as she took Lee's hand. "And thank you, Aunt Lillian. We'll always treasure your gift of the Four Freedoms."

Leaning in for a hug, Aunt Lillian whispered in their ears. "I may not know exactly what you do, but I have a vivid imagination. Don't worry - I can keep a secret."

* * *

><p><strong>Tag:<strong>

The hall clock chimed eleven times, letting Amanda know her self-imposed curfew had arrived. "Time to head for home," she said. "Mother and the boys have probably turned in for the night." When no response came from her partner, she knew he was fast asleep.

Rubbing the last of the lotion over his naked back, she pulled the covers up around his neck as he lay prone on the bed. It had been a very productive evening – at least as far as masseuse and patient were concern. True to his word, there had been no indelicate proposals tonight. He simply accepted the passive role and let Amanda dictate the methods of her therapeutic care.

Using her "magic fingers," as Lee referred to her technique, she'd worked him over from the biceps femoris to the Gluteus maximus to the Deltoid muscles of the shoulders. Kneading every knot, she'd released the tightness in his joints and rubbed the stiffness from his body. Somewhere between massaging the scapula and the clavicle, his eyelids had closed and the soft moans had ceased.

In many ways, the therapy of touch had loosened some of her inhibitions as well, creating a natural familiarity with his body that paved the way for better things to come. All in all, nursing Lee proved to be the opener she needed to relax in such an intimate setting. Her hands-on care had done them both a world of good.

Pleased with her handiwork, she screwed the caps back on the lotion bottles and prepared to leave for home. Moving about the bedroom, she retrieved his shirt and trousers from the floor and hung his sports coat in the closet. Checking the bathroom, she neatly repositioned the wet towels on the rack and scoped up the dirty clothes in the hamper. She'd be sure to launder everything at home, to spare him the task in the morning.

Tiptoeing to his bedside, she reached to switch off the light, just as his hand caught hers. "Oh," she squeaked, startled by the sudden movement.

"Stay," he murmured, in a voice still raspy from sleep.

Her hand lightly caressed his forearm. "It's late, sweetheart."

"Please, just a little while longer." His hazel eyes locked with hers, melting her resolve.

"Okay, I'll stay for a few more minutes." Walking around the bed, she slipped off her shoes and positioned her body on top of the blanket. Snuggling in close, she draped an arm over his back. "I'll stay until you fall asleep again."

He turned his head and smiled. "You're full of surprises. Where'd you learn to give such an intimate massage?"

"Oh, I just added a few strokes of my own to the repertoire I learned as a hospital volunteer. It's important to consider the needs of the patient. You definitely required more than just the basic backrub."

His deep laugh reverberated around the room. "Your skills as a Bedside Bluebell have improved considerably over the years."

"And so has my patient." Her laughter mingled with his, intensifying the sense of intimacy. "The first time I was put in charge of your care, you demanded a whole cheese cake and a bottle of scotch."

"As I recall, I told you to get me a woman." His lips turned up in a dimpled grin. "Little did I know that the woman of my dreams was standing right under my nose."

"Do you remember the very nice treat I brought you in the hospital?" She gently stroked the back of his neck until he shuddered under her ministrations.

"Yeah, I do," he whispered, his voice quaking from her touch. "It was a damn 'Chewy Chubby' candy bar. Your idea of breaking hospital rules was to give me something loaded with sugar and nuts."

"I should have slipped you a 'Mickey Finn'," she said with a laugh. "You protested so loudly, I thought the other patients would report us to hospital security."

"I was such a jerk back then; it's a wonder you stayed around." Rolling over, he wrapped her in his arms and gently settled her head against his shoulder.

She laid her hand on his bare chest. "I had my doubts, especially after you declared it impossible to get along with me."

"I think I was trying to convince myself that a rule breaker and a rule follower were a hopeless mix. Lucky for me, you saw things differently."

"You were a challenge, but I saw many redeemable qualities." She sighed with contentment, relaxing her body against his long frame.

His breathing became deeper as he drifted closer to sleep. "It was great tonight," he finally said, his words heavy with fatigue. "Your mother, the boys, Joe and Aunt Lillian went out of their way to welcome me."

"You fit right in, sweetheart." Amanda felt a tug on her heartstrings as she ran her fingers through his sandy hair. Timeless images of belonging flashed through her mind. The spectator on the fringe was now a member of the team. The lone wolf was joining the pack. And, best of all, after thirty years, the lost little boy was finally coming home.

* * *

><p><strong>****The End****<strong>


End file.
